<^ 


A.    P.    Lan.Re 


S  A  N  D  E  K  S 


UNION  FOURTH  READER: 


EMBRACING   A   FULL    EXPnSTTION-    OF     THE 


PRINCIPLES  OF  RHETORICAL  READING; 


NUMEROUS  EXERCISES  FOR  PRACTICE, 


BOTH  IX  PROSE  AND   POETRY,  VARIOUS  IN  STYLE,  AND   CAREFULLY  ADAPTED 
TO   THE   PURPOSES   OF  TEACHINa  IN  SCHOOLS   OF  EVERY  GRADE. 


By  CHARLES  W.  SANDERS,  A.M., 

ATTfHOE  OF   "A   SERIES   OF  SCHOOL    READERS,"   "YOUNG   LADIES'   READER,"   "SPELLEK, 
DBFINER,   AND  ANALYZER,"   "ELOCUTIONARY  CHART,"  ETC. 


NEW    Y  ORK: 
IVISON,   PHINNEY,  BLAKEMAN  &  COMPANY, 

Nos.   48    &    50    WALKER    STREET. 

CHICAGO  :    S.  C.  GRIGGS  &  CO.,  39  &  41  LAKE  ST. 

1866. 


NEWLY  ILLUSTRATED  AND  ENLARGED. 

SANDERS'  PRIMARY  SPELTTSb -£ 

SANDERS'  PICTORIAL  PRIMER.    Bound  (Green  Covers) 

SANDERS ■  NE W  SPEL L ER,  DE FINER,  AND  ANAL YZEB. 

SANDERS'  NEW  FIRST  READER 

SANDERS'  NEW  SECOND  READER 

SANDERS'  NEW  THIRD  READER. 

SANDERS'  NEW  FOURTH  READER 

SANDERS'  NEW  FIFTH  RE  A  DER.    (Revised) 

SANDERS'  HIGH  SCHOOL  READER. 

SANDERS'  YOUNG  LADIES'  READER 

SANDERS'  SCHOOL  SPEAKER 

SANDERS'  ANALYSIS  OF  ENGLISH  WORDS. 

SANDERS'  ELOCUTIONARY  CHART 

SANDERS'  PRIMARY  HAND  CARDS,  Six  in  a  Set 

SANDERS'  PRIMARY  SCHOOL  CHARTS    Large  Type,  for  Teaching 
Primary  Scliools  in  Concert    8  Nos.  on  4  Cards 


SA]!fDERS'  Ux^IO^^  SERIES  OF  READERS. 

JUST    PUBLISHED. 

SANDERS'  UyiON  SPELLER 

SANDERS'  UNION  PRIMER. 

SANDERS'  UNION  READER,  NUMBER  ONE 

SANDERS'  UNION  READER,  NUMBER  TWO % 

SANDERS'  UNION  RE  A  DER,  NUMBER  THREE 

SANDERS'  UNION  READER,  NUMBER  FOUR 

SANDERS '  UNION  READER,  NUMBER  FIVE 

SANDERS   UNION  SPEAKER 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 
CHARLES    W.    SANDERS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


Electrotyped  by  Smith  Je  MoDouaxL,  82  &  84  Boekman  St 


I 


f'- 


»       ^     •  J 


PEEF ACE 


This  Fourth  Reader  is  designed  to  pass  the  pupil  from  the 
comparatively  easy  ground  occupied  by  the  Third  to  the  more 
diflScult  course  embraced  in  The  Union  Fifth  Reader,  which  is 
the  highest  in  the  series.  It-is,  therefore,  carefully  graded  to  this 
intermediate  position. 

In  one  sense,  however,  it  is  the  most  important  in  the  set ; 
since  the  great  mass  of  pupils,  in  our  common  schools,  are  drawn 
away  from  scholastic  pursuits  long  before  the  proper  time  for 
entering  upon  any  course  of  reading  more  advanced  than  that 
which  is  here  presented.  This  consideration  has  had  its  full 
weight  in  the  preparation  of  the  following  pages. 

Every  exercise  will  be  found  to  bear  the  impress  of  that  special 
adaptation  to  the  purposes  of  teaching,  without  which  no  book 
of  this  kind  can  fully  perform  the  office  which  it  assumes.  The 
labor  expended  in  this  direction,  though  all  unseen  by  the  casual 
observer,  has  been  neither  light  nor  brief.  It  can  be  duly  appre- 
ciated by  none  but  the  experienced  teacher. 

All  words  in  the  exercises,  requiring  explanation,  have  been 
arranged,  as  regular  lessons  in  spelling  and  definition.  In  these 
definitions,  however,  it  must  be  kept  in  mind,  that  no  attempt 
has  been  made  to  give  all  the  meanings  of  which  a  word  is  sus- 
ceptiple,  but  that  only  which  it  hears  in  the  particular  place  in 
the  exercise  where  it  is  found.  There  is  a  special  educational 
advantage  in  thus  leading  the  mind  of  the  pupil  definitely  to  fix 
upon  the  precise  import  of  a  word,  in  some  particular  use  or 
application  of  it. 

All  proper  names,  occurring  in  the  text,  and  at  all  likely  to 
embarrass  the  learner,  have  been  explained  in  brief,  comprehensive 
notes.     These  notes  involve  many  matters,  Geographical,  Bio- 


iy       •   '  -^     •     '  •      PREFACE. 

grstpbical,  arid '  Histori-cftT,  wLicli  are  not  a  little  interesting  in 
themselves,  aside  from  the  special  purpose  subserved  by  them  in 
the  present  connection. 

All  this  has  been  done,  and  more,  in  order  to  secure  that  kind 
of  interest  in  the  exercises  which  comes  of  reading  what  is  clearly- 
understood  ;  and  because  no  perfect  reading  is  possible,  where 
the  reader  himself  fails  to  perceive  the  meaning  of  what  he 
reads. 

In  the  selection  and  adaptation  of  the  pieces,  the  highest  aim 
has  been  to  make  and  to  leave  the  best  moral  impression  ;  and 
this,  not  by  dull  and  formal  teachings,  but  by  the  pleasanter,  and, 
therefore,  more  powerful,  means  of  incidental  and  unexpected 
suggestion.  Admonition  is  then  most  likely  to  be  heeded,  when 
it  comes  through  the  channel  of  events  and  circumstances. 

The  direct  and  ostensible  aim  of  the  book,  however,  has  been 
kept  steadily  in  view  ;  which  is  to  furnish  the  best  possible  exer- 
cises for  practice  in  Rhetorical  reading.  To  this  end,  the  great- 
est variety  of  style  and  sentiment  has  been  sought.  There  is 
scarcely  a  tone  or  modulation,  of  which  the  human  voice  is 
capable,  that  finds  not  here  some  piece  adapted  precisely  to  its 
best  expression.  There  is  not  an  inflection,  however  delicate, 
not  an  emphasis,  however  slight,  however  strong,  that  does  not 
here  meet  with  something  fitted  well  for  its  amplest  illustration. 
No  tenderness  of  pathos,  no  earnestness  of  thought,  no  play  of 
wit,  no  burst  of  passion,  is  there,  perhaps,  of  which  the  accom- 
plished teacher  of  Elocution  may  not  find  the  proper  style  of 
expression  in  these  pages,  and,  consequently,  the  best  examples 
for  the  illustration  of  his  art. 

The  book,  thus  briefly  described,  is,  therefore,  given  to  the 
public  with  the  same  confidence  that  has  hitherto  inspired  the 
author  in  similar  efforts,  and  with  the  hope  that  it  may  reach 
even  a  higher  measure  of  usefulness,  than  that  attained  by  any 
of  its  predecessors,  in  the  long  line  of  works  which  he  has  pre- 
pared for  the  use  of  schools. 

New  York,  April,  1863. 


CONTENTS. 


PARTFIRST 
ELOCUTION. 

'\ection  I. — Articulation 13 

Elementary  Sounds  of  the  Letters 14 

Substitutes  for  the  Vowel  Elements 15 

Substitutes  for  the  Consonant  Elements IG 

Errors  in  Articulation. 16 

Combinations  op  Consonants IT,  18 

Examples  to  Illustrate  Indistinct  Articulation 19 

Miscellaneous  Examples 20 

Section  IL — Accent  and  Emphasis 21 

Examples  of  Primary  and  Secondary  Accent 21 

Examples  of  Intensive  Emphasis 22 

Examples  of  Absolute  Emphasis 23 

Examples  of  Antithetic  Emphasis 24 

Action  III. — Inflections 25 

Monotone 26 

RisiNa  AND  Falling  Inflections. 27 

Rules  for  the  Use  of  Inflections 28,  29,  30,  31,  32,  33 

The  Circumflex 34 

Section  IV. — Modulation 35 

Pitch  of  Voice 36 

Quantity. 37 

Rules  for  Quantity 38 

Quality 39 

Rules  for  Quality 40 

Notation  in  Modulation 41 

Examples  for  Exercise  in  Modulation 41,  42,  43,  44 

Section  V. — The  Rhetorical  Pause 45,  46 

PART    SECOND. 

I.ESSON-  PAGE 

1.  True  Heroism Adapted.    Osborne,  47 

2.  You  AND  I Charles  Mackay,  61 

3.  Life's  "Work 53 

4.  The  Young  Captives 54 

5.  My  Mother's  Last  Kiss. Mrs.  E.  Oakes  Smith,  58 


yi  CONTENTS. 

LESSOK  PASB 

6.  The  Dead  Child's  Ford Mrs.  E.  Odkes  Bmiih,  60 

•7.  Lame  and  Lazy. — A  Fable 64 

8.  Faithfulness  IN  Little  Things Adapted.    Eliza  A.  Chase,  66 

9.  The  Ameeican  Boy 70 

10.  The  Sailor  Boy's  Song Tl 

11.  Chase  of  the  Pet  Fawn .Adapted.    Miss  Cooper,  73 

12.  Kindness 77 

13.  Careless  Words 80 

14.  Webster  and  the  Woodchuck Adapted.    Boston  Traveler,  81 

15.  Do  IT  Yourself 84 

16.  Better  Late  than  Never 86 

17.  The  Adopted  Child Mrs.  EeTnans,  88 

18.  The  Old  Eagle  Tree Rev.  John  Todd,     90 

19.  The  Light  of  Knowledge Elihu  Burriit,  93 

20.  Night's  Lessons L.  H.  Sigoumey,  95 

21.  Nature's  Teachings Chambers'  Journal,  98 

22.  Sowing  and  Harvesting Anon.,  99 

23.  A  Thrilling  Incident Adapted.    Anon.,  101 

24.  The  Truthful  King 105 

25.  When  Shall  I  Answer,  No J.  K  McElligott,  107 

26.  To  Master  Robert  and  John Davis,  109 

27.  Whang,  the  Miller Goldsmith,  113 

28.  Chimney-Swallows Henry  Ward  Beecher,  115 

29.  The  Doubting  Heart Adelaide  Procter,  119 

30.  The  Comin'g  of  Winter T.  B.  Bead,  120 

31.  Child  Tired  of  Play N.  F.  Willis,  122 

32.  The  Rescue By  a  Ssa  Captain,  124 

33.  Robert  Bruce  and  the  Scotch  Woman 128 

34.  Robert  Bruce  and  the  Spideit. Bernard  Barton,  131 

35.  Wealth  and  Fashion Miss  Edgworth,  135 

36.  My  First  Jack-knife 138 

37.  The  Pine-tree  Shillings Nathaniel  Hawthxyi-ne,  143 

38.  Hiawatha's  Hunting Longfellow,  147 

39.  A  Desperate  Encounter  with  a  VxsiTn^-R.  .Book  of  Adventures,  150 

40.  The  Power  of  Habit John  B.  Gough,  156 

41.  The  Drunkard's  Daughter 158 

42.  The  Two  Young  Travelers Adapted.    Merry's  Museum,  161 

43.  Higher  ! 165 

44.  Labor .' Caroline  F.  Orne,  166 

45.  The  Ambitious  Apprentice 169 

46.  So  was  Franklin Anon.,  175 

47.  Now  AND  Then Jane  Taylor^  178 


CONTENTS.  y^ 

J-KSSOX  PACK 

48.  An  Ingenious  Stratagem Days  ofwashington,  181 

49.  Frances  Slocum,  the  Young  Captive B.  J.  Lossing,  185 

50.  The  Rain-drops Delia  Louise  Colton,  190 

51.  Small  Things F.  Bennoch,  192 

52.  Murderer's  Creek. James  K.  Paulding,  194 

53.  Napoleon's  Army  Crossing  the  Alps Adapted.    Anon.,  198 

54.  "Where  there's  a  "Will  there's  a  Way Miza  Cook,  201 

55.  "I  Can  " 202 

56.  Now,  To-day Adelaide  A.  Procter,  204 

57.  Capture  of  Major  Andre 206 

58.  Benedict  Arnold 209 

59.  Behind  Time Freeman  Hunt,  212 

60.  How  Happy  I'll  Be 214 

61.  The  Sword  of  Bunker  Hill WiUiam  R.  Wallace,  216 

62.  Bible  Legend  of  the  Wissahikon Lippard,  218 

63.  Advice  to  the  Young F.  H.  Chapin,  222 

64.  The  Intrepid  Youth 224 

65.  Our  Country's  Call William  C.  Bryant,  229 

66.  Mrs.  Credulous  and  the  Fortune-teller 232 

6*7.  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity. — An  Allegory 236 

68.  Not  to  Myself  Alone aS^.  W.  Partridge,  240 

69.  The  World  would  be  the  Better  for  it 242 

70.  Select  Proverbs  of  Solomon Bible,  244 

71.  Winter  Beauty Henry  Ward  Beecher,  247 

72.  Frosted  Trees 251 

73.  The  Mountains  of  Life James  G.  Clark,  255 

74.  Imaginary  Evils Eliza-  Cook,  256 

75.  Sir  Walter  and  the  Lion A.  Walchner,  257 

76.  Choice  Extracts • 260 

I.  "What  Eeally  Benefits  us,  260.  II.  God's  Love,  261.  III.  Life- 
Work,  261.  IV.  Humility,  261.  V.  Benefits  of  Adversity.  262. 
YI.  Our  Mountain  Homes,  262.  VII.  Make  a  Beginning,  262. 
VIII.  Influence,  263.  IX.  Pleasure  in  Acquiring  Knowledge, 
264.  X.  What  is  Fame?  264.  XL  Cultivated  Intellect,  265. 
XII.  God's  Works  Attest  His  Greatness,  265. 

77 .  Capture  of  the  Whale ■  266 

78.  Leaves  from  an  Aeronaut Willis  Gaylord  Clark,  271 

79.  The  Dapple  Mare John  G.  Saxe,  276 

80.  A  Leap  for  Life George  P.  Morris,  279 

81.  The  Indian  Bride's  Revenge. Adapted.    L.  M.  Stowell,  281 

82.  A  Mother's  Love Albert  Barnes,  286 

83.  The  Life-Book Home  Journal,  289 

84.  Ode  on  Solitude Fope,  291 


ylll  CONTENTS. 

LESSON  PAGB 

85.  Getting  fa  Right  Start J.  G.  Holland,  293 

86.  The  Presumption  of  Youth BolUn,  297 

8t.  Song  op  the  American  Eagle 300 

88.  The  Army  op  Reform Sarah  Jane  Lippincoit,  302 

89.  Last  Cruise  of  the  Monitor Adapted.  Grenvilh  M.  Weeks   305 

90.  Duties  and  Responsibilities  op  Women Gail  Hamilton,  313 

91.  Scene  prom  William  Tell J.  Sheridan  Snowies,  317 

92.  The  Rich  Man  and  the  Poor  Man Khemnitzer,  322 

93.  Grandeur  op  the  Ocean Walter  Colton,  324 

94.  A  Burial  at  Sea "  "        328 

95.  The  Treasures  op  the  Deep — Mrs.  Hemans,  330 

96.  The  Bridge  op  Sighs ; .  Thomas  Hood,  332 

97.  A  Requiem 334 

98.  YisiT  to  Mount  Yernon A.  G.  Ritchie,  335 

99.  La  Fayette Charles  Sprague,  339 

100.  The  Mystic  Weaver 342 

101.  Work  Away Harpers'  Magazine^  347 

102.  Queen  Isabella's  Resolve Vinet,  350 

103.  Discovery  op  the  New  World .Lamartine,  354 

104.  The  Return  op  Columbus Vinet,  360 

105.  Two  Hundred  Years  Ago Grenville  Mellen,  362 

106.  Press  On Park  B-jnjamin,  365 

107.  The  Three  Forms  op  'Mature.  ,.  .From  tJie  French  of  Michelet,  367 

108.  The  Whale  and  the  Whaler....      "  "  "        369 

109.  RiENZi's  Address  to  the  Romans Miss  Mitford,  372 

110.  Song  op  the  Forge 375 

111.  Choice  Extracts 378 

I.  Swiftness  op  Time,  378.  II.  The  Ship  of  State,  379.  III.  The 
Tkue  Hero,  379.  IV.  Heart  Essential  to  Genius,  379.  V.  Edu- 
cation, 380.  VI.  Vanity  of  "Wealth,  380.  VII.  Consolation  op 
THE  Gospel.  381.  VIII.  The  Light  op  IIopf.,  381.  IX.  Pamper- 
ing the  Body  and  Starving  the  Soul,  882. 

112.  We  all  do  Fade  as  a  Leap. Gail  Hamilton,  383 

113.  Teachings  op  Nature Pollok,  385 

114.  Passing  Under  the  Rod Mary  S.  B.  Dana,  387 

115.  The  Petulant  Man Osborne,  389 

116.  The  Brahmin  and  the  Rogues Versified  hy  J.  K  McElligott,  394 

117.  Living  Within  our  Means S.  W.  Partridge,  398 

118.  Grandeur  op  the  Universe 0.  M.  Mitchel,  401 

11.9.  "Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  TREiif\..PameliaS.  Vining,  404 

120.  The  Memory  of  Washington Kossuth.  405 

121.  The  Lost  One's  Lament 407 


EXPLANATION  OF  THE  PAUSES. 


The  Period  is  the  longest  pause — a  full  stop.  It  marks  the 
end  of  a  sentence,  and  shows  the  sense  complete ;  as,  The  sky- 
is  blue\     Pause  the  time  of  counting  six,  and  let  the  voice  fall. 

? 

The  Interrogation  is  used  at  the  end  of  a  question ;  as,  Is 
the  sky  blue'  ?  If  the  question  can  be  answered  by  yes  or  wo, 
the  voice  rises;  if  not,  it  falls ;  as,  Where  is  your  map^?  Pause 
the  time  of  counting  six. 

I 

The  Exclamation  denotes  wonder,  surprise,  pain,  or  joy ; 
as,  0' !  what  a  sweet  rose^ !  Pause  the  time  of  counting  one^ 
after  a  single  word,  and  let  the  voice  rise ;  but  .after  a  complete 
sentence,  pause  the  time  of  counting  six,  and  let  the  voice  fall. 


The  Colon  is  a  pause  shorter  than  the  Period ;  as,  The  sky- 
is  clear^ :  the  sun  shines.  Pause  the  time  of  counting  fouVj  and 
let  the  voice  fall. 

The  Semicolon  is  a  pause  shorter  than  the  Colon ;  as,.  The 
rose  is  fair^ ;  but  it  soon  fades.  Pause  the  time  of  counting  twOj 
and  let  the  voice  fall.  Sometimes  the  voice  should  rise,  as  the 
sense  may  require. 

4  U  1* 


^  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

J 

The  Comma  is  the  shortest  pause ;  as,  Jane  goes  to  school', 
and  learns  to  read.  Pause  the  time  of  counting  one,  and  keep 
the  voice  up. 

The  Dash  denotes  a  sudden  pause  or  change  of  subject;  as, 
I  saw  him — but  what  a  sight !  When  the  dash  is  used  after  any 
other  pause,  the  time  of  that  pause  is  doubled. 


EXPLMATION  OF  OTHER  MARKS. 


The  Apostrophe  has  the  form  of  the  comma.  It  denotes 
the  possessive  case ; .  as,  John's  book ;  also,  that  one  or  mora 
letters  have  been  left  out  of  a  word ;  as,  lov'd  for  loved. 

U        " 

The  Quotation  includes  a  passage  that  is  taken  from  some 
other  author  or  speaker ;  as,  John  said  ;  "  See  my  kite." 


(  ) 


Tlie  Parenthesis  includes  words  not  properly  a  part  of  the 
main  sentence ;  as,  I  like  these  people  (who  would  not  ?)  very 
much.  The  words  within  the  parenthesis  should  be  read  in  a 
lower  tone  of  voice. 


[  ] 


The  Brackets  inclose  words  that  serve  to  explain  the  pre- 
ceding word  or  sentence;  as,  James  [the  truthful  boy]  went 
home. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  ^  j^ 

A 

The  Caret  shows  where  words  are  to  be  put  in  that  have 
been  omitted  by  mistake ;  as,  Live  ^  peace. 

The  Diaeresis  is  placed  over  the  latter  of  two  vowels,  to 
show  that  they  belong  to  two  distinct  syllables ;  as,  aerial. 

The  Hyphen  is  used  to  connect  compound  words;  as, 
"Well-doing ;  or  the  parts  of  a  word  separated  at  the  end  of  a 
line. 


The  Index  points  to  something  special  or  remarkable  ;  as, 
Important  News ! 

5^  <^  <^  <J  r\-n   ^_^^___ 


'  The  Ellipsis  shows  that  certain  words  or  letters  have  been 
purposely  omitted  ;  as,  K**g,  k  .  .  g,  or  k g,  for  king. 

1" 

The  Paragraph  denotes  the  beginning  of  a  new  subject. 
It  is  chiefly  used  in  the  Bible;  as,  •[[  The  same  day  came  to 
him,  etc. 


The  Section  is  used  to  divide  a  book  or  chapter  into  parts ; 
as,  §  45. 

t  t 

The  Asterisk,  the   Obelisk,  the  Double  Dagger,  and 
sometimes  other  marks,*  refer  to  notes  in  the  margin. 


*  Jor  instance :  tbe  Sbction  marl^  §,  and  tho  Parallel,  |. 


xii  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

APPLICATION  OF  THE  MARKS  USED  m  WRITmG. 

LINB 

1  My  Young  Friends',  never  tell  a  falsehood^ ;  but  al- 

2  ways  speak  the  truth^ ;  this  is  pleasing  to  your  Maker. 

3  Do  you  read  His  holy  word — the  Bible'?     O!  remem- 

4  ber,  that  He  has  there  said  :  "  He  that  speaketh  lies,  shall 

5  not  escape :  he  shall  perish."*     Remember,  too,  that  the 

6  All-seeing  God  knows  all  that  we  say  or  do. 

7  *![  Tho'   wisdom's  voice   is   seldom   heard   in  k g's 

8  palaces, — there  have  been  wise  kings  (e.  g,  Solomon,)  who 

9  were  lovM  and  obey'd  by  their  subjects.f 

10  Here,  \i.  e.  in  the  IT.  S.,]  we  can  not  boast  of  our  kings, 

11  princes,  lords,  &c.  ;  yet  we  have  had  a  President,  who, 

12  in   true   greatness,   surpass'ed    them    all;    viz.,   the   great 

13  WASHINGTON. i^"  Washington   feared   and  hon- 

14  ored  God. 

15  §  Section,  J  Double  Dagger,  and  ||  Parallel,  are  also  used 

16  for  reference  to  the  margin. 


*  Proverbs  six.  5  and  9.  f  1  Kings. 


SANDERS' 

UNION    READER. 

N  U  M  BE^^FO  U  R. 

PART    FIEST. 
ELOCUTION. 

Elocution  is  the  art  of  delivering  written  or  extempo- 
raneous composition  with  force,  propriety,  and  ease. 

It  deals,  therefore,  with  words,  not  only  as  individuals,  but  aa 
members  of  a  sentence,  and  parts  of  a  connected  discourse : 
including  every  thing  necessary  to  the  just  expression  of  the 
sense.  Accordingly,  it  demands,  in  a  special  manner,  attention 
to  the  following  particulars;  viz..  Articulation,  Accent, 
Emphasis,  Inflection,  Modulation,  and  Pauses. 

SECTION  I. 

articulation. 

Articulation  is  the  art  of  uttering  distinctly  and 
justly  the  letters  and  syllables  constituting  a  word. 

It  deals,  therefore,  with  the  elements  of  words,  just  as  elocu- 
tion deals  with  the  elements  of  sentences :  the  one  securing  the 
true  enunciation  of  each  letter,  or  combination  of  letters,  the 
other  giving  to  each  word,  or  combination  of  words,  such  a 
delivery  as  best  expresses  the  meaning  of  the  author.  It  is  the 
l^sis  of  all  good  reading,  and  should  be  ^refully  practiced  by 
the  learner. 

(18)     . 


\/u^nl 


U}\ 


SANDBftS'    UNION    SERIES, 


ELEMENTARY  SOUNDS  OF  THE  LETTERS. 


VOWEL   SOUNDS. 

SDB-TONICS. 

TONICS. 

Element. 

Power. 

Element. 

Power. 

21.— a*             as  in       Gun. 
22.— J                  ^'          Jet. 

1.— ^A 

as  in 

^pe. 

23.— L                 ' 

*          Let. 

2.— 'A 

(( 

Arm. 

24.— M                < 

'          ilfan. 

3.— »A 

(( 

^11. 

25.— N                ' 

'         Mt. 

4.— *A 

u 

At. 

26.— R                ' 

*           i?un. 

6.— 5A 

ii 

Care. 

27.— V 

'           Fent. 

6.— -A 

u 

^sk. 

28.— W               ' 

*           TTent. 

7.— ^E 

u 

Fyq. 

29.— Y                « 

'           Fes. 

8.— «E 

il 

^nd. 

30.— iZ               ' 

'          Zeal. 

9.— ^I 

u 

Ice. 

31.— ^Z                < 

*          A;2rure. 

10.— ^I 
11.— 10 
12.— =^0 

li 

ii 

A 

Old. 
Do. 

32.— Na 
33.— TH 

13.— »0 

u 

Ox. 

A-TONI( 

3S. 

14.— lU 

(( 

Use. 

34.— F               as 

in       i^it. 

15.— ^U 

a 

?7p. 

35.— H                 ' 

'          Bsit. 

16.— »U 

u 

TuW. 

36.— K                * 

'          ^id. 

17.— 01 

u 

Oil 

37.— P                 ' 

'          Pit. 

18.— OU 

« 

Out. 

38.— S 
39.— T 

'          Sin. 
*          Top. 

CONSONANT   SOUNDS. 

40.— CH 

'           CAat. 

SUB-TONICS. 

41.— SH 

'          /SAun. 

19.— B 

as  in 

Bait. 

42.— TH             ' 

«          ^Ain. 

20.— D 

n 

Z)un. 

43.— WHf 

«           FAen. 

*  Soft  G  is  equivalent  to  J ;  Soft  C  to  S,  and  hard  C  and  Q  to  K.  X 
is  equivalent  to  K  and  S,  as  in  box,  or  to  G  and  Z,  as  in  exalt. 

f  WH  is  pronounced  as  if  the  H  preceded  W,  otherwise  it  would  be 
pronounced  W-hen.  R  should  be  slightly  trilled  before  a  vowel.  Fotf 
further  instructions,  see  Sanders  and  Merrill's  Elementary  and  Elocu* 
tiouary  Chart 


NUMBER    FOUR, 


15 


SUBSTITUTES  FOR  THE  VOWEL  ELEMENTS. 


For  liOng  A. 


For  Flat  A. 


For  Broad  A.    - 


For  Short  A. 


For  Intermedi-  J  ea 
ate  A.  \  e 


For  Long  E. 


For  Short  E. 


For  Long  I. 


n  sail, 
gawge. 
lay. 
great. 
d«gn. 
they. 

daunt, 
h^art. 
gMard. 

pawse. 

lat^. 

George. 

groat. 

horn. 

sowght. 

plaid, 
guaranty. 

hair, 
bear, 
where, 
their. 

"weak. 

seize. 

people. 

key. 

brief. 

pique. 

any. 

said. 

says. 

dead. 

heifer. 

leopard. 

friend. 

guess. 

bwry. 

aisle. 

sleight. 

eye. 

die. 

choir. 

guide. 

buy. 

try. 


For  Short  I.    - 


For  Long  0.    ■ 


e  as  in  English. 

ee     *'  been. 

"  sieve. 

**  women. 

**  busy. 

**  build. 

"  symbol. 

"  hautboy, 
beau. 

eo     "  yeoman. 

ew    *♦  set^. 

oa     "  boat. 

oe     "  hoe. 

ou    **  soul. 

ow    "  flow. 


0 

u 

ui 

au 
eau 


For  Long  f 

0.  1 


Slender 


For  Short 


{a  " 
ou  " 
ow    ♦' 


[eau  ** 
!  eu     " 


For  Long  U.    ■{ 


ew 
ieu 

lew 
j  ou 
I  Me 
{  ui 

r« 

For  Short  U.   -!  oe 
\^ou 


For  Short 
Slender 


U.  \ot 


oy 


shoe, 
soup. 

was. 

hough. 

knoz:;ledge. 

beauty 

feud. 

detr. 

adieu. 

mew. 

youv. 

cue. 

suit. 

her. 

sir. 

does. 

love. 

young. 

wolf, 
would. 


joy- 


For  the  Diph- 
thong 01. 

For  the  Diph-  1 
thong  OU.    i 


There  is  no  pure  Triphthongal 
sound  in  the  language.  Buoy  is 
equivalent  to  bwoy.  U  being  a 
•onoonant. 


16 


SAWDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 


SUBSTITUTES  FOR  THE  CONSONANT  ELEMENTS. 


p    (gh&s  in  l&ugh. 
'\ph     "    sphere. 

J.    g      " 

^em. 

'c 
^   \ch     " 
^■\gh     - 

U        " 

can. 
chord, 
hough, 
quit. 

S.     c        " 

cent. 

1;?A^A  " 

facet/. 
phihiaic. 

^•{^*  " 

of. 
Stephen 

Y.    t        " 

valiant. 

f^ 

suffice. 

iZ. 

s 

wa*. 

[x 

Xerxea. 

'  s 

treasure. 

^z.. 

z 

azure. 

si 

fujseon. 

zi 

glazier. 

NG. 

n 

cowch. 

'  ce 

ocfan. 

ci 

socz'al. 

ch 

cAaise. 

SH.- 

si 

pension. 

s 

sure. 

ss 

issue. 

ti 

no^zbn. 

CH. 

ti 

fus^mn. 

B,  D,  G,  H,  L,  M,  N,  P,  and  R,  have  no  substitutes. 


The  most  common  faults  in  Articulation  are 
I.   The  suppression  of  a  syllable  ;  as 


cab'n 

cap'n 

barr'l 

ev'ry 

hist'ry 

reg'lar 

sev'ral 

rhet'rio 


for 

u 
u 
u 
u 
<( 


cab-m. 

cap-torn. 

bar-rd. 

ev-e-ry. 

liis-to-ry. 

reg-2*-lar. 

sev-er-al. 

rhet-o-ric. 


mem  ry 

jub'lee 

trav'ler 

fam'ly 

ventilate 

des'late 

prob'ble 

par-tic'lar 


for 

a 
a 

iC 

u 
a 
n 


mem-o-ry. 

ju-b^-lee. 

trav-el-er, 

fam-i-Iy. 

ven  t^-late. 

des-o-Iate. 

prob-a-ble. 

par-tic-i«-lar. 


II.   The 
word;  as, 

read-in 

swif-ly 

com-mans 

wam-er 

um-ble 

ap-py 

con-sis 

fa-t'l 


omission  of  any  sound  properly  belonging  to  a 


for 

u 

a 
n 
a 
II 
a 


read-in^. 

swift-ly. 

com-manc?s. 

warm-er. 

Aum-ble. 

Aap-py. 

con-sis^s. 

fa-taL 


pr'-tect 

b'-low 

p^r-vade 

srink-in 

th^if-ty 

as-ter-is 

fov-er-meut 
'eb-u-ary 


for 


pro-tect. 

be-low, 

per-vade, 

sArink-in^, 

thrif-ty. 

as-ter-is^. 

gov-erw-ment. 

Feb-ru-a-ry. 


NUMBER 

FOUR. 

17 

III.   The 

substitution  of  one  sound  for 

another;  as. 

«f-ford 

for 

af-ford. 

mod-ist 

for  mod-est. 

wil-ler 

(( 

wil-lo2y. 

i*p-prove 

"    ap-prove. 

sock-it 

({ 

sock-et. 

W/'in-e-gar 

"    vin-e-gar. 

fear-lwss 

(( 

fear-less. 

sep-e-rate 

''    sep-a-rate. 

cul-tcr 

ii 

cult-wre. 

tem-per-it 

"   tem-per-ate. 

prod-ua; 

cc 

prod-uc/s. 

croc-er-dile 

"    croc-o-dile. 

judg-munt 

n 

judg-ment. 

tzib-ac-Ci^r 

"    to-bac-co. 

ehU-dnn 

it 

chil-dren. 

com-prwm-ise   "    com-pro-mise 

IV.  Produce  the  sounds  denoted  hj  the  following  com- 
binations of  consonants : — 


Let  the  pupil  first  produce  the  sounds  of  the  letters,  and  then 
the  word  or  words  in  which  they  occur.  Be  careful  to  give  a 
clear  and  distinct  enunciation  to  every  letter. 

1.  Bd,  as  in  vob'd;  hdst,  -pvob'dst;  bl,  bhnd,  a^ble;  bid,  hum' 

bl'd;   bldst,  troubrdst;   blst,  tro\ibVst;   biz,  crumbles;  br^ 
6rand;  bz,  x'lbs. 

2.  Gh,  as  in  church  ;  cht,  fetched. 

3.  Dj,  as  in  edge;  djd,  hedg'd ;  dl,  bri<^fe;  did,  riddl'd ;  dlst, 

hsLudl'st;  dlz,hundles;  dn,hiird'n;  dr,droYe;  dth,M<iidth; 
dths,  hresidths;  dz,  odds. 

4.  Fl,  as  in  ^ame ;  fld,  r'lJVd  ;  flst,  BixJVst ;  jlz,  r'xfles  ;  fr,  /rom ; 

fs,  quaj^s,  houghs;  fst,  laugh' st,  quaff' st;  ft,  raft;  fts,  wafts; 
ftst,  graft' St. 

6.  Gd,  as  in  hegg'd ;  gdst,  hra^gg'dsf ;  gl,  glide;  gld,  struggl'd; 

gldst,  ha^ggl'dst ;  gist,  stra-ugrst ;  glz,  mingles ;  gr,  groYe ; 
gst,  hegg'st;  gz,  ^gs. 

G.  Kl,  as  in  uncle,  a^nkle ;  kid,  tricJcrd;  hldst,  truckV dst;  klst, 
chucA:/'s^;  klz,  wrinkles;  kn,  blac^'w;  knd,  reck' n^d; 
kndst,  reck' n' dst ;  knst,  blac/i;'?i's^ ;  knz,  reck' 7is  ;  kr,  crank ; 
ks,  checks;  kt,  act. 

7.  Lb,  as   in  hulb ;    Ibd,   hulb'd;   lbs,   hulbs ;    Ich,  ^Ich;   Iclit, 

helch'd;   Id,  hold ;   Idst,  fold'st ;   Idz,  holds;  If  self;  Ifs, 
gulfs;   Ij,   bu^^e;    Ik,  elk;    Iks,  silks;   Ikt,  miWd;    Ikts, 
mulcts;  Im,  elm;    Imd,  whelm' d;   Imz,  fdms ;  In,  iall'n ; 
B 


18  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Ip,  help;  Ips,  scalps;  Ipst,  help'st;  ?.<?,  fa?se;  1st,  cvJVsf; 
It,  melt;  Ith,  hesilth;  Iths,  stealths;  Its,  colts;  Iv,  de^re; 
Ivd,  shelved;  Ivz,  elves;  Iz,  \12dls. 

8.  Md,  as  in  doowi'c?;  mf,  ir'vimph ;  mp,  hemp;  mpt,  tempt; 

mpts,  Sittempts;  mst,  entomb' st;  mz,  tombs. 

9.  Nch,  as  in  hench;   ncht,  -pinch' d;    nd,  and;    ndst,  end'st; 

ndz,  ends;  ng,  smig ;  ngd,  hang'd;  ngth,  length;  ngz, 
songs;  nj,  range;  njd,r3ing'd;  nk,ink;  nks,  ranks;  nkst, 
thank' St;  nstj  winc'd;  nt,  sent ;  nts,  rents;  ntst,  went'st; 
nz,  runs. 

10.  PI,  as  in  ^?ume;  pld,  r'vppl'd;  plst,  rippl'st;  plz,  apples; 
7>r, prince;  ps,  sips;  pst,  rapp'st;  pt,  ripp'd. 

11.  Rb,  as  in  lierZ>;  rch,  search;  rcht,  church' d;  rbd,  orb'd; 

rbdst,harb'dst;  rbst,  disturb' st ;  rbz,  orbs  ;  rd,hard  ;  rdst, 
heard' st;  rdz,  words ;  rf,  turf;  rft,  scarf  d-y  rg,  hurg ; 
rgz,  hurgs ;  rj,  dir^e ;  7'Jd,  urg'd;  rk,  ark;  rks,  arks; 
rkst,  work'st;  rkt,  dirk'd;  rktst,  emhark' dst ;  rl,  girl; 
rid,  world;  rldst,  hurld'st ;  rlst,  whirl' st ;  rlz,  hurls;  rm,, 
arm;  rmd,  arm'd;  rmdst,  harm' dst;  rmst,  arm'st;  rmz, 
charms;  rn,  turn;  rnd,  turn'd;  rndst,  earn' dst;  mst, 
learTi's^;  rnz,  urns;  rp,  carp;  rps,  harps;  rpt,warp'd; 
rs,  Yerse}  rsh,  harsh;  rst,  &rst;  rsts,  hurs/s ;  rt,  dart;  rth, 
earth;  rths,  hirths;  rts,  mai-ts;  rtst,  dart'st;  rv,  curve; 
rvd,  nerv'd;  rodst,  euro' dst;  rvst,  swerv'st;  rvz,  nerves; 
rz,  errs. 

12.  Sh,  as  in  ship;  sht,  hush'd;  sk,  scan,  skip;  s7cs,  tusks;  skst^ 
frisk' st;  skt,  risk'd;  si,  slow;  sld,  nestl'd;  slz,  wrestles; 
sm,  smile;  sn,  snag;  sp,  sport;  sps,  lisps;  spt,  clasp' d;  st, 
stag;  str,  strike;  sts,  rests;  sw,  s«;ing. 

13.  Th,  as  in  ^Mne,  thin;  thd,  hreath'd;  thr,  three;  thst, 
hreath'st;  thw,  thwack;  thz,  writhes  ;  tl,  title;  tld,  aettl'd ; 
ildst,  settl'dst;  tlst,  settVst;  th,  nettles;  tr,  ^runk;  ts,  fi/s; 
tw,  twirl. 

14.  Vd,  as  in  curv'd;  vdst,  liv' dst ;  vl,  driv'l ;  vld,  grov'l'd ; 
vldst,    grov' I' dst;    vlst,    driv' Vst;    vrij    driv'n;    vst,    liy's^; 


vz,  lives. 


15.  Wh,  as  in  when,  where. 

16.  Zd,  as  in  mus'd;  zl,  dazzle;  zld,  mnzzi'd;  zldst,  dazzl'dst; 
zlst,  dazzVst;  zlz,  muzzles;  zm,  spasm;  zmz,  chasms;  zn^ 
lis'n;  znd,  reas'n'd ;  znz,  pris'nz;  zndst,  impris'n'dst. 


K UMBER    FOUR 


19 


V.  Avoid  blending  the  termination  of  one  word  with 
the  beginning  of  another,  or  suppressing  the  final  letter 
or  letters  of  one  word,  when  the  next  word  commences 
with  a  similar  sound. 


His  small  eyes 

She  keeps  pies 

His  hour  is  up 

Dry  the  widow's  tears 

Your  eyes  and  ears 

He  had  two  small  eggs 

Bring  some  ice  cream 

Let  all  men  praise  Him 

He  was  killed  in  war 

Water,  air,  and  earth 

Come  and  see  me  once  more 


EXAMPLES. 

instead  of  His  small  lies. 
She  keeps  spies. 
His  sour  is  sup. 
Dry  the  widow  steers. 
Your  rise  sand  dears. 
He  had  two  small  legs. 
Bring  some  mice  scream. 
Let  tall  men  pray  sim. 
He  was  skilled  in  war. 
Water  rare  rand  dearth. 
Come  mand  see  me  one  smore. 


^OTE. — By  an  indistinct  Articulation  the  sense  of  a  passage 
is  often  liable  to  be  perverted. 


EXAMPLES. 

1.  Will  he  attempt  to  conceal  hi*  acts  f 
Will  he  attempt  to  conceal  his  sacks  ? 

2.  The  man  hac?  oars  to  row  her  over. 
The  man  hac?  door^  to  row  her  rover. 

8.  Can  there  be  an  aim  more  lofty  ? 
Can  there  be  a  name  more  lofty  ? 

4.  The  judge*  ought  to  arrest  the  culprits. 
The  judge*  sought  to  arrest  the  culprits. 

5.  Hi*  tre  burned  when  she  told  him  her  age. 
Hi*  *ire  burned  when  she  told  him  her  rage. 

6.  He  wa*  awed  at  the  works  of  labor  anc?  art. 
He  wa*  sawed  at  the  works  of  labor  an  cfart. 

7..  He  wa*  drained  in  the  religion  of  his  fathers. 
He  wa*  sprained  in  the  religion  of  his  fathers. 


20  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

MISCELLANEOUS    EXAMPLES. 

1.  bravely  o'er  the  boisterous  iiWow*, 
His  ff&ll&nt  ba,rk  wa,s  borne. 

2.  Can  crskven  co-w&rds  expect  to  conquer  the  country  ? 

8.   Click,  click,  goes  the  clock  ;  clack,  clack,  ffoes  the  mill. 

4.  Did  you  desire  to  hear  his  dark  and  doleful  dreams  f 

5.  "  Firm-paced  and  slo-w,  a  horrid  front  they  form^ 

Still  as  the  breeze ;  but  dreadful  as  the  storm" 

6.  The  flaming  fire  flashed  fearfully  in  his  face. 

7.  The  glassy  glaciers  gleamed  in  globing  Zigh<, 

8.  ^ow  Aigh  his  honors  heaved  his  haughty  head! 

9.  He  drevr  long,  legible  lines  along  the  lowely  landscape. 

10.  Masses  of  immense  magnitude  move  majestically  through  the  vast 
empire  of  the  solar  system. 

11.  Round  the  rough  and  rugged  rocks  the  ragged  rascal  ran. 

12.  The  stripling  stranger  strayed  straight  toward  the  struggling 
stream. 

13.  ^Ae  uttered  a  sharp,  shrill  shriek,  and  then  shrunk  from  the  shriveled 
form  that  slumbered  in  the  shroud. 

14.  For  fear  of  o/ending  the  frightful  fugitive,  the  vile  vagabond 
ventured  to  vilify  the  venerable  veteran. 

15.  Amidst  the  mists,  with  angry  boasts, 
He  thrusts  his  fists  against  the  posts, 
And  still  insists  he  sees  the  ghosts. 

16.  Peter  Prangle,  the  prickly  prangly  pear  picker,  picked  three 
pecks  of  prickly  prangly  pears,  from  the  prangly  pear  trees,  on  the 
pleasant  prairies. 

17.  Theophilus  Thistle,  the  successful  thistle  sifter,  in  sifting  a  sieve 
full  of  unsifted  thistles,  thrust  three  thousand  thistles  through  the  thick 
of  his  thumb ;  now,  if  Theophilus  Thistle,  the  successful  thistle  sifter, 
in  sifting  a  sieve  full  of  unsifted  thistles,  thrust  three  thousand  thistles 
through  the  thick  of  his  thumb,  see  that  thou,  in  sifting  a  sieve  full 
of  unsifted  thistles,  thrust  not  three  thousand  thistles  through  the  thick 
of  thy  thumb.     Success  to  the  successful  thistle  sifter. 

18.  We  travel  sea  and  soil ;  we  pry,  we  prowl; 
We  progress,  and  we  jtrog  from  pole  to  pole. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  £1 

SECTION  11. 

ACCENT   AND    EMPHASIS. 

Accent  and  Emphasis  both  indicate  some  special  stress 
of  voice. 

Accent  is  that  stress  of  voice  by  which  one  syllable  of  a  word 
is  made  more  prominent  than  others;  Emphasis  is  that  stress 
of  voice  by  which  one  or  more  words  of  a  sentence  are  distin- 
guished above  the  rest. 

ACCENT.       ■ 

The  accented  syllable  is  sometimes  designated  thus : 
(/);  SiS,  com-mand'-ment. 

Note  I. — Words  of  more  than  two  syllables  generally  have 
two  or  more  of  them  accented. 

The  more  forcible  stress  of  voice,  is  called  the  Primary 
Accent  J  and  the  less  forcible,  the  Secondary  Accent. 

EXAMPLES    OF    PRIMARY   AND    SECONDARY   ACCENT, 

In  the  following  examples  the  Primary  Accent  is  designated 
by  double  accentual  marks,  thus  : 

Ed^^-u-cate^,  ed^-u-ca^^-tion,  muV'-ti-ply\  muV-ti-pli-ca^^-tion^  sat'^-is- 
fy^,  sat^-is-fac^^-tion,  com^-pre-hend^^,  com'-pre-hen'^-sion,  rec'-om-mend'% 
Tec^-om-mend-a^^-tion,  mo'^-ment-a^-ry,  com-mu^ ^ -ni-cate^ ,  com^-pli-ment^^- 
al,  in-dem^-ni-fi-ca^^-tion,  ex^-Um-po-ra^^-ne-ous,  coun' -ter-rev^ -o-W ^ -tion- 
a-ry. 

Note  II, — The  change  of  accent  on  the  same  word  often 
changes  its  meaning. 

EXAMPLES. 

coF-league,  a  partner.  col-league'',  to  unite  with 

con^-duct,  behavior.  con-duct^,  to  lead. 

des^'-cant,  a  song,  or  tune.  des-cant^,  to  comment. 

ob^-ject,  ultimate  purpose.  ob-ject'',  to  oppose. 

in^-ter-dict,  a  prohibition.  in-ter-dict^,  to  forbid. 

o^-Tcr-throw,  ruin;  defeat.  o-yer-throw'',  to  throw  down. 


22  BAJVDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Note  III. — Emphatic  words  are  often  printed  in  Italics. 
When,  however,  different  degrees  of  emphasis  are  to  be  denoted, 
the  higher  degrees  are  designated  by  the  use  of  Capitals, 
LARGrEE.  or  smaller,  according  to  the  degree  of  intensity. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Our  motto  shall  be,  our  country^  oub  whole  countet,  and 
NOTHING  BUT  OUR  COUNTRY. 

2.  Thou  Child  of  Joy  I  Shout  round  me :  let  me  hear  thy  shouta^ 
thou  happy  Shepherd  Boy  ! 

3.  Freedom  calls  you !  quick,  be  ready, 

Think  of  what  your  sires  have  done ; 
Onward,  onward  !  strong  and  steady, 

Drive  the  tyrant  to  his  den ; 
On,  and  let  the  watchword  be, 
Country,  HOME,  and  LIBERTY. 

Note  IV. — Emphasis,  as  before  intimated,  varies  in  degrees 
of  intensity, 

examples  of  intensive  emphasis. 

1.  He  shook  the  fragment  of  his  blade, 

And  shouted:  "VICTORY!" 

Charge,  Chester,  charge  !     On,  Stanley,  on  !'* 

2.  A  month!  0,  for  a  single  week!  I  ask  not  for  years' ,  though  an 
AOE  were  too  little  for  the  much  I  have  to  do. 

3.  Now  for  the  fight  !  now  for  the  cannon  peal  ! 

ONWARD  !  through  blood,  and  toil,  and  cloud,  and  fire  I 
Glorious — the  shout,  the  shock,  the  crash  of  steel, 
The  volley's  roll,  the  rocket's  blazing  spire  I 

4.  Hear,  0  Heavens  !  and  give  ear,  0  Earth  I 

Note  V. — Emphasis  sometimes  changes  the  seat  of  accent 
from  its  ordinary  position. 

examples. 

There  is  a  difference  between  ^o«^sibility  and  joroJ-'ability. 

And  behold,  the  angels  of  God  a3''cending  and  rfe-'seending  on  it. 

For  this  corruptible  must  put  on  m''corruption,  and  this  mortal  must 
put  on  tm^mortality. 

Does  his  conduct  deserve  op-'probation,  or  reja^robation  ? 


NUMBER    FOUR.  23 

Note  YI. — There  are  two  kinds  of  Emphasis  : — Absolute 
and  Antithetic.  Absolute  Emphasis  is  used  to  designate  the 
important  words  of  a  sentence,  without  any  direct  reference  to 
other  words. 

EXAMPLES    OF    ABSOLUTE    EMPHASIS.     • 

1.  Oh,  speak  to  passion's  raging  tide, 

Speak  and  say:  "peace,  be  still!" 

2.  The  Union,  it  MUST  and  SHALL  BE  PRESERVED ! 

8.  Hush  !  breathe  it  not  aloud. 

The  wild  winds  must  not  hear  it !     Yet,  again, 
I  tell  thee — we  are  free  !  knowles. 

4.  When  my  country  shall  take  her  place  among  the  nations  of  the 
earth,  then  and  not  TILL  then,  let  my  epitaph  be  written,    emmett. 

5.  If  you  are  men,  follow  me  !  Strike  down  yon  guard,  and  gain  the 
mountain  passes. 

6.  Oh  !  shame  on  us,  countrymen,  sha»ie  on  us  all, 

If  we  cringe  to  so  dastard  a  race. 

7.  This  doctrine  never  was  received ;  it  never  can,  by  any  POSSIBIL- 
ITY, BE  received  ;  and,  if  admitted  at  all,  it  must  be  by  THE  TOTA.L 
SUBVERSION  OF  LIBERTY! 

8.  Are  you  Christians,  and,  by  upholding  duelists,  will  you  deluge  th« 
land  with  blood,  a,nd  fill  it  with  widows  and  orphans?  beecher. 

9.  Liberty  and  union,  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable. 

WEBSTER. 

10.  Treason !  cried  the  speaker ;  treason,  treason,  TREASON,  re- 
echoed from  every  part  of  the  house. 

11.  The  war  is  inevitable, — and  let  it  come  !  I  repeat  it,  Sir, — LET 
IT  COME  I  PATRICK  henry. 

12.  Be  we  men. 
And  suffer  such  dishonor  ?     Men,  and  wash  not 

The  stain  away  in  blood  ?  miss  mitford. 

13.  0  SACRED  forms  !  how  proud  you  look  ! 
How  high,  you  lift  your  heads  into  the  sky ! 

•  How  hiuje  you  are  !  how  mighty  and  how  free!     knowles 

14.  I  shall  know  but  one  country.  The  ends  /  aim  at,  shall  be  "  My 
Country's,  my  God's,  and  Truth's."  webstk*. 


24  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Note  VII. — Antithetic  Emphasis  is  that  whicli  is  founded 
on  the  contrast  of  one  word  or  clause  with  another. 

EXAMPLES    OP   ANTITHETIC    EMPHASIS. 

1.  The  faults  of  others  should  always  remind  us  of  our  own. 

2.  He  desired  to  protect  his  friend,  not  to  injure  him 
S.  But  yesterday,  the  word  of  Caesar  might 

Have  stood  against  the  world;  now  lies  he  there, 

And  none  so  poor  to  do  him  reverence.  shakspeare. 

4.  A  good  name  is  rather  to  be  chosen  than  great  riches.  bible, 

5.  We  can  do  nothing  against  the  truth  ;  but  for  the  truth.      bible. 

6.  He  that  is  slow  to  anger,  is  better  than  the  mighty ;  and  he  that 
ruleth  his  spirit,  than  he  that  taketh  a  city,  bible. 

Note  YIII. — The  following  examples  contain  two  or  more 
sets  of  Antitheses. 

1.  Just  men  are  onlj  free,  the  rest  are  slaves. 

2.  Beauty  is  like  ih.Q  flower  of  spring;  virtue  is  like  the  start  of  heaven. 

t.  Truth  crushed  to  earth  shall  rise  again, 

'  The  eternal  years  of  God  are  hers ; 
But  error,  wounded,  writhes  in  pain, 

And  dies  amid  her  worshipers.  brtant. 

4.  A  false  balance  is  abomination  to  the  Lord;  but  a  just  weight  is  his 
delight.  bible. 

5.  A  friend  can  not  be  known  in  prosperity  ;  and  an  enemy  can  not  be 
hidden  in  adversity. 

6.  It  is  my  living  sentiment,  and,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  it  shall  be 
my  dying  sentiment;  independence  now,  and  independence  forevee. 

WEBSTER. 

7.  We  live  deeds,  not  years, — in  thoughts,  not  breaths^ — in  feelings,  not 
in  figures  on  a  dial.  We  should  count  time  by  heart-throbs.  He  most 
lives,  who  thinks  the  most,-^feels  the  noblest, — acts  the  best. 

8    You  have  done  the  mischief,  and  /  bear  the  blame. 

9.  The  wise  man  is  happy  when  he  gains  his  own  approbation ;  the 
fool,  when  he  gains  that  of  others. 

10.  We  must  hold  them  as  we  hold  the  rest  of  mankind — enemies  ia 
war, — in  peace,  friend*.  jeffersgn. 


NUMBER    FOUR. 


25 


Note  IX. — The  sense  of  a  passage  is  varied  by  changing  the 
place  of  the  emphasis 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Has  Jamei  seen  his  brother  to-day  ?     No ;  but  Charles  has. 

2.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  to-day  f  No ;  but  he  has  heard  from 
Mm. 

3.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  lo-day  ?     No ;  but  he  saw  yours. 

4.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  to-day?  No:  but  he  has  seen  his 
tister. 

6.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  to-day  9  No ;  but  he  saw  him  yes- 
terday. 

Bemark. — To  determine  the  emphatic  words  of  a  sentence, 
as  well  as  the  degree  and  kind  of  emphasis  to  be  employed,  the 
reader  must  be  governed  wholly  by  the  sentiment  to  be  expressed. 
The  idea  is  sometimes  entertained  that  emphasis  consists  merely 
in  loudness  of  tone.  But  it  should  be  borne  in  mind,  that  the 
most  intense  emphasis  may  often  be  effectively  expressed,  even 
by  a  whisper. 


SECTION  III. 

INFLECTIONS. 

^Inflections  are  turns  or  slides  of  the  voice,  made 
in  reading   or   speaking;    as,   Will    you    go    to    New 


f^i 


^. 


Ojt 


^  or  to  ^.^ 

All  the  various  sounds  of  the  human  voice  may  be  compre- 
hended under  the  general  appellation  of  tones.     The  principal 
modifications  of  these  tones  are  the  Monotone,  the  Rising 
Injlection,  the  Falling  iNrLECxiON,  and  th«  Circumi'lex. 
4U  2 


25  SAlSfDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

The  Horizontal  Line  ( — )  denotes  the  Monotone. 
The  Kising  Slide        (  ^)  denotes  the  Rising  Inflection. 
The  Falling  Slide       (  \  )  denotes  the  Falling  Inflection. 
The  Curve  (^-^)  denotes  the  Circumflex. 

The  Monotone  is  that  sameness  of  sound,  "v^hich  arises 
from  repeating  the  several  words  or  syllables  of  a  passage 
in  one  and  the  same  general  tone. 

Remark. — The  Monotone  is  employed  with  admirable  effect 
in  the  delivery  of  a  passage  that  is  solemn  or  sublime. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  0  thou  that  rollest  above,  round  as  the  shield  of  my  fathers: 
irhence  are  thy  beams,  0  sun,  thy  everlasting  light  ?  ossian. 

2.  'Tis  midnight's  holy  hour,  and  silence  now 
Is  brooding,  like  a  gentle  spirit,  o'er 

The  still  and  pulseless  world.     Hark !  on  the  winds 

The  bells'  deep  tones  are  swelling;  'tis  the  knell 

Of  the  departed  year.  prentice. 

3.  God  came  from  Teman,  and  the  Holy  One  from  Mount  PiSran. 
Selah.  His  glory  covered  the  heavens,  and  the  earth  was  full  of  Hia 
praise. 

4.  Before  Him  went  the  pestilence,  and  burning  coals  went  forth  at 
His  feet.  He  stood  and  measured  the  earth:  He  beheld,  and  drove 
asiinder  the  nations ;  and  the  everlasting  mountains  were  scattered,  the 
perpetual  hills  did  bow :  His  ways  are  everlasting.  bible. 

5.  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  iirmament  showeth 
His  handy  work.  Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night 
showeth  knowledge.  There  is  no  speech  nor  language,  where  their 
Toice  is  not  heard.  id. 

6.  How  brief  is  life  !  how  passing  brief  I 

How  brief  its  joys  and  cares ! 
It  seems  to  be  in  league  with  time, 
And  leaves  iis  unawares. 

7.  The  thunder  rolls :  be  hushed  the  prostrate  world, 

While  cloud  to  cloud  returns  the  solemn  hymn.       Thomson. 


WUMBER    FOUR. 


2T 


Remark. — The  inappropriate  use  of  the  monotone, — a  fault 
into  which  young  people  naturally  fall, — is  a  very  grave  and 
obstinate  error.  It  is  always  tedious,  and  often  even  ridiculous. 
It  should  be  studiously  avoided. 

The  Rising  Inflection  is  an  upward  turn,  or  slide 
of  the  voice,  used  in  reading  or  speaking ;  as,  Are  you 


.^Q' 


prepared  to  recite  your  ^ 

The  Falling  Inflection  is  a  downward  turn,  or  slide 
of  the  voice,  used  in  reading  or  speaking ;  as.  What  are 


^^ 


you 


V 


In  the  falling  inflection,  the  voice  should  not  sink  below  the 
general  pitch;  but  in  the  rising  inflection,  it  is  raised  above  it. 

The  two  inflections  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following 
diagrams : 


1.  Did  he  act  "^V^ 


2.  Did  they  go 


vA,! 


He  acted 


^% 


v*%... 


They  went 


't^y. 


iS\ 


A«fc" 


8.  If  the  flight  of  Dry  den  is  ^y^     Pope  continues  longer  on  the 


%, 


N:      If  the  blaze  of  Dry  den's  fire  js  V  " 


iS^^t> 


the  heat  of  Pope's  ia 


more  regular  and 


28  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

4.  [8  honor's  lofty  soul  forever  fled^  ? 

Is  virtue  lost''  ?     Is  martial  ardor  dead''  ?  : 

Is  there  no  heart  where  worth  and  valor  dwell^  ? 
No  patriot  Wallace^  ?    No  undaunted  Tell''  ? 
Ye8\  Freedom,  yes^ !  thy  sons,  a  noble  band, 
Around  thy  banner,  firm,  exulting  stand\ 

Bemark. — The  same  degree  of  inflection  is  not,  at  all  times, 
used,  or  indicated  by  the  notation.  The  due  degree  to  be 
•employed,  depends  on  the  nature  of  what  is  to  be  expressed. 
Por  example  j  if  a  person,  under  great  excitement,  asks  another: 

Are  you  in  ^  the  degree   of  inflection  'would  be  much 

greater,  than  if  he  playfully  asks :  Are  you  in  ^"^  The 

former  inflection  may  be  called  intensive,  the  latter,  common. 


RULES  FOR  THE  USE  OF  INFLECTIONS. 

RULE  I. 

Direct  questions,  or  those  which  may  be  answered  by 
l/es  or  no,  usually  take  the  rising  inflection;  but  their 
answers,  generally,  the  falling. 

,    EXAMPLES. 

1.  Will  you  meet  me  at  the  depot^  ?     Yes^ ;  or,  I  wiir. 

2.  Did  you  intend  to  visit  Boston^  ?     No^ ;  or,  I  did  not\       * 

5.  Can  you  explain  this  difficult  sentence''  ?     Yes^ ;  I  can. 
4.  Are  they  Trilling  to  remain  at  home''  ?     They  are^. 

6.  Is  this  a  time  for  imbecility  and  inaction-'  ?     By  no  means\ 

6.  King  Agrippa,  believest  thou  the  prophets''  ?     I  know  that  thou 
t)elievesO. 

7.  Were  the  tribes  of  this  country,  when  first  discovered,  making  any 
progress  in  arts  and  civilization^  ?    By  no  means^ 


NUMBER    FOUR.  29 

8.  To  purchase  heaven  has  gold  the  power^  ? 
Can  gold  remove  the  mortal  hour''  ? 

In  life,  can  love  be  bought  with  gold^  ? 
Are  friendship's  pleasures  to  be  sold''  ? 
No^ ;  all  that's  worth  a  wish,  a  thought, 
Fair  virtue  gives  unbribed,  unbought. 

9,  What -would  content  you^?  Talents^?  No\  Enterprise^?  No\ 
Courage'?  No\  Reputation'?  No\  Virtue'?  No\  The  man 
whom  you  would  select,  should  possess  not  one,  but  all  of  these\ 

Note  I. — ^When  tlie  direct  question  becomes  an  appeal,  and 
the  reply  to  it  is  anticipated,  it  takes  the  intense  falling 
inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  li"  he  not  a  bold  and  eloquent  speaker^  ? 

2.  Caii"  such  inconsistent  measures  be  adopted^  ? 
8.  Did^  you  ever  hear  of  such  cruel  barbarities^  ? 
4.  Is  this  reason^  ?     Is  it  law^  ?     Is  it  humanity^  ? 
6.  Was"  not  the  gentleman's  argument  conclusive^  ? 

RULE   II. 

Indirect  questions,  or  those  which  can  not  be  answered 
by  yes  or  no,  usually  take  i\iQ  falling  inflection,  and  their 
answers  the  same. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  How  far  did  you  travel  yesterday^  ?     Forty  milesV 

2.  "Which  of  you  brought  this  beautiful  bouquet^  ?     Julia\ 

3.  Where  do  you  intend  to  spend  the  summer^  ?     At  Saratoga^. 

4.  When  will  Charles  graduate  at  college^  ?     Next  year^. 

5.  What  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  emotions  of  the  heart^T 
Gratitude^ 

Note  I. — ^When  the  indirect  question  is  one  asking  a  repe- 
tition of  what  was  not,  at  first,  understood,  it  takes  the  rising 
inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  When  do  you  expect  to  return  ?     Next  week. 
When  did  you  say'  ?     Next  week. 

2.  Where  did  you  say  William  had  gone'  ?     To  New  York. 


80  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Note  II. — Answers  to  questions,  whether  direct  or  indirecr, 
when  expressive  of  indifference,  take  the  rising  inflection,  or 
the  circumflex. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Did  you  admire  his  discourse  ?     Not  much^. 

2.  Which  way  shall  we  walk  ?     I  am  not  particular-'. 

3.  Can  Henry  go  with  us  ?     If  he  chooses^. 

4.  What  color  do  you  prefer  ?     I  have  no  particular  choice''. 

Note  III. — In  some  instances,  direct  questions  become  in- 
direct by  a  change  of  the  inflection  from  the  rising  to  the 
falling. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Will  you  come  to-morrow^  or  next  day'  ?    Yes. 

2.  Will  you  come  to-morrow/  or  next  day^  ?     I  will  come  to-morrow. 

Remark. — The  first  question  asks  if  the  person  addressed 
will  come  within  the  two  days,  and  may  be  answered  by  yes  or 
no  ;  but  the  second  asks  on  which  of  the  two  days  he  will  come, 
and  it  can  not  be  thus  answered. 


RULE   III. 

When  questions  are  connected  by  the  conjunction  or, 
the  first  requires  the  rising^  and  the  second,  the  falling 
inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Does  he  study  for  amusement^,  or  improvement^  ? 

2.  Was  he  esteemed  for  his  wealth'',  or  for  his  wisdom^  ? 

3.  Sink''  or  swim^,  live^  or  dic^,  survive^  or  perish^  I  give  my  hand 
and  heart  to  this  vote.  webster. 

4.  Is  it  lawftil  to  do  good  on  the  Sabbath-days^,  or  to  do  evif  ?  to 
save  life^,  or  to  kiir  ?  biblb? 

5.  Was  it  an  act  of  moral  courage'',  or  cowardice^  for  Cato  to  fall  on 
his  sword^  ?. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  g^ 


KULE   IV. 

Antithetic  terms  or  clauses  usually  take  opposite  in- 
fections ;  generally,  the  former  has  the  rising ^  and  the 
latter  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  If  you  seek  to  make  one  rich,  study  not  to  increase  his  stores^; 
but  to  diminish  his  desires^ 

2.  They  have  mouths^,— but  they  speak  not^ : 
Eyes  have  they'', — ^but  they  see  not^ : 
They  have  ears', — but  they  hear  not^r 
looses  have  they', — but  they  smell  not^ : 
They  have  hands',— but  they  handle  noOr 

Feet  have  they', — ^but  they  walk  not\  biblb. 

Note  I. — ^When  one  of  the  antithetic  clauses  is  a  negative^ 
and  the  other  an  affirmative^  generally  the  negative  has  the 
rising,  and  the  affirmative  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  I  said  an  elder  soldier\  not  a  better'. 

2.  His  acts  deserve  punishment^  rather  than  commiseration^ 

S.  This  is  no  time  for  a  tribunal  of  justice',  but  for  showing  mercy^; 
not  for  accusation',  but  for  philanthropy'' ;  not  for  trial',  but  for  pardon'' ; 
not  for  sentence  and  execution',  but  for  compassion  and  kindness\ 


RULE  V. 

The  Pause  of  Suspension,  denoting  that  the  sense  is 
incomplete,  usually  has  the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Although  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom',  neither  shall  fruit  be  in 
the  vine' ;  the  labor  of  the  olive  shall  fail',  and  the  fields  shall  yield  no 
meat' ;  the  flocks  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold',  and  there  shall  be  no 
herd  in  the  stalls' ;  yet  will  I  rejoice  in  the  Lord\  I  will  joy  in  the 
God  of  my  salvation^  siblb. 


32  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Note  I. — The  ordinary  direct  address,  not  accompanied  with 
strong  emphasisj  takes  the  rising  inflection,  on  the  principle  of 
the  pause  of  suspension. 

SXAMPLES. 

1.  Men'',  brethren'',  and  fathers-',  hear  ye  my  defense  which  I  mak* 
now  unto  you.  biblb. 

2.  Ye  living  flowers'',  that  skirt  the  eternal  frost'' ! 
Ye  wild  goats'',  sporting  round  the  eagle's  nest^l 
Ye  eagles'',  playmates  of  the  mountain  storm-'  I 
Ye  lightnings'',  the  dread  arrows  of  the  clouds'' ! 
Ye  signs^  and  wonders''  of  the  elements-' ! 

Utter  forth  God\  and  fill  the  hills  with  praise^  I   coLEBiDav 

Note  II. — In  some  instances  of  a  pause  of  suspension,  the 
sense  requires  an  intense  falling  inflection. 

SXAUPLS. 

1.  The  prodigal,  if  he  dpes  not  become  a  paup&r^f  will,  at  least,  have 
but  little  to  bestow  on  others. 

Kemark. — If  the  rising  inflection  is  given  on  pauper^  the 
sense  would  be  perverted,  and  the  passage  made  to  mean,  that, 
in  order  to  be  abje  to  bestow  on  others,  it  is  necessary  that  he 
should  become  a  pauper. 


RULE  VI. 

Expressions  of  tenderness,  as  of  grief,  or  kindness, 
commonly  incline  the  voice  to  the  rising  inflection, 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Mother'', — I  leave  thy  dwelling^ ; 

Oh !  shall  it  be  forever''  ? 
With  grief  my  heart  is  swelling-'. 
From  thee-', — ^from  thee^, — to  sever''. 

2.  0  my  son  Absalom' !  my  son',  my  son  Absalom' !     Would  God  I 
had  died  for  thee',  Absalom',  my  son',  my  son' !  biblb. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  33 


RULE   VII. 

The  Penultimate  Pause,  or  the  last  but  one,  of  a 
passage,  is  usually  preceded  by  the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Diligence\  industry^  and  proper  improvement  of  time^,  are  mate- 
rial duties  of  the  young.^ 

2.  These  through  faith  subdued  kingdom8\  wrought  righteousness^ 
obtained  promise8\  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions\  quenched  the  violence 
of  fire\  escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword\  out  of  weakness  were  made 
strong\  waxed  valiant  in  fight'',  turned  to  flight  the  armies  of  the 
aliens\ 

Remark. — The  rising  inflection  is  employed  at  the  penulti- 
mate pause  in  order  to  promote  variety,  since  the  voice  generally 
falls  at  the  end  of  a  sentence. 


RULE   VIII. 

Expressions  of  strong  emotion,  as  of  anger  or  surprise, 
and  also  the  language  of  authority  and  reproach,  are 
expressed  with  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  On  TOu\  and  on  your  children\  be  the  peril  of  the  innocent 
blood  which  shall  be  shed  this  day\ 

2.  What  a  piece  of  workmanship  is  man^  !  How  noble  in  reason^  ! 
How  infinite  in  facueties^  ! 

3.  0  FOOLS^ !  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe  all  that  the  prophets  havo 
written  concerning  me^ !  bible. 

4.  Hence\  home\  you  idle  creatures^^  get  you  home^, 

You  BLOCKS\  YOU  STONES\  YOU  WORSE  THAN  USELESS  THINGSM 

5.  Avaunt^ !  and  quit  my  sight^ !  let  the  earth  hide  thee^ !  Thy  bones 
are  marrowless^ ;  thou  hast  no  speculation  in  thine  eyes  which  thou  dost 
glare^  with.  shakspeare. 

6.  Slave,  do  thy  office^ !     Strike\  as  I  struck  the  foe^ ! 
Strike\  as  I  would  have  struck  the  tyrants^ ! 

Strike  deep  as  my  eiirse^ !     Sirike\  and  but  once^ !  id. 

4  U  2* 


34  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

RULE   IX. 

An  emphatic  succession  of  particulars,  and  emphatic 
repetition,  require  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Bewari"  what  earth  calls  happiness  ;  beware^ 
All  joys  but  joys  that  never  can  expire\ 

2.  A  great  mind\  a  great  heart\  a  great  orator^,  a  great  career , 
have  been  consigned  to  history\  butler. 

Remark. — The  stress  of  voice  on  each  successive  particu- 
lar, or  repetition,  should  gradually  be  increased  as  the  subject 
advances. 

The  Circumflex  is  a  union  of  the  two  inflections  on 
the  same  word,  beginning  either  with  the  falling  and 
ending  with  the  risingy  or  with  the  rising  and  ending 

with  the  falling;  as,  If  he  goes  to  '^  ^^"^  I  shall  go  to 

The  circumflex  is  mainly  employed  in  the  language  of 
irony,  and  in  expressing  ideas  implying  some  condition, 
either  expressed  or  understood. 

examples. 

1.  You,  a  beardless  youth,  pretend  to  teach  a  British  general. 

2.  What!  shear  a  wolf ?  a  prowling  wolf ? 

8.  My  father's  trade  ?  ah,  really,  that's  too  bad  ? 

My  father's  trade  ?     Why,  blockhead,  are  you  mad  ? 
My  father,  sir,  did  never  stoop  so  low, — 
He  was  a  gentleman,  I'd  have  you  know. 

4.  What !  confer  a  crown  on  the  author  of  the  public  calamities  ? 

5.  But  you  are  very  wise  men,  and  deeply  learned  in  the  truth ;  we 
are  weak,  contemptible,  mean  persons. 

6.  They  pretend  they  come  to  improve  our  state,  enlarge  our  thoughts, 
and  free  us  from  error, 

7.  But  yoiith,  it  seems,  is  not  my  only  crime ;  I  have  been  accused 
of  acting  a  theatrical  part. 

8.  And  this  man  has  become  a  gSd,  and  Cassias  a  wretched  creature. 


NUMBER    FOUR, 


85 


SECTION  IV. 


MODULATION. 


Modulation  implies  those  variations  of  the  voice^ 
heard  in  reading  or  speaking,  which  are  prompted  by 
the  feelings  and  emotions  that  the  subject  inspires. 


EXAMPLES. 


Full 
Tone. 
Middle 
Tone. 


EXPRESSIVE   OP   COURAGE   AND   CHIVALROUS    EXCITBKENT. 

f  Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends,  once  mor*f 
\  Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  English  dead ! 
f  In  peace,  there's  nothing  so  becomes  a  man. 


Shoet 

AND 

Quick. 
High 

AND 

Loud. 
Quick, 

AND 
VERT 

Loud. 


As  modest  stillness  and  humility ; 
But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears, 
Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger ; 
Stiffen  the  sinews,  summon  up  the  blood, 
Disguise  fair  nature  with  hard-favored  rage. 

'  On,  ON,  you  noblest  English, 
Whose  blood  is  fetched  from  fathers  of  war-proof  I 
Fathers^  that,  like  so  many  Alexanders, 
Have,  in  these  parts,  from  morn  till  even  fought. 
And  sheathed  their  swords  for  lack  of  argument, 

'  I  see  you  stand  like  greyhounds  in  the  slips, 
Straining  upon  the  start.     The  game's  afoot ; 
Follow  your  spirits,  and,  upon  this  charge, 
Cry — Heaven  foe  Harry!  England!  and  St.  George! 

shakspeabh. 

Remark. — To  read  the  foregoing  example  in  one  dull,  mo- 
notonous tone  of  voice,  without  regard  to  the  sentiment  ex- 
pressed, would  render  the  passage  extremely  insipid  and  life- 
less. But  by  a  proper  modulation  of  the  voice,  it  infuses  into 
the  mind  of  the  reader  or  hearer  the  most  animating  and 
exciting  emotions. 

The  voice  is  modulated  in  three  different  ways.  First,  it  is 
varied  in  Pitch;  that  is,  from  high  to  low  tones,  and  the 
reverse.  Secondly^  it  is  varied  in  Quantity,  or  in  loudness  or 
volume  of  sound.  Thirdly ^  it  is  varied  in  Quality,  or  in  the 
kind  of  sound  expressed. 


36  SANDERS'    UNION   SERIES. 

PITCH  OF  VOICE. 

Pitch  op  Voice  has  reference  to  its  degree  of  ele- 
vation. 

Every  person,  in  reading  or  speaking,  assumes  a  certain 
pitch,  which  may  be  either  high  or  low^  according  to  circum- 
stances, and  which  has  a  governing  influence  on  the  variations 
of  the  voice,  above  and  below  it.  This  degree  of  elevation  is 
usually  called  the  Key  Note. 

As  an  exercise  in  varying  the  voice  in  pitch,  the  practice  of 
tittering  a  sentence  on  the  several  degrees  of  elevation,  as 
represented  in  the  following  scale,  will  be  found  beneficiaL 
First,  utter  the  musical  syllables,  then  the  vowel  sound,  and 
lastly,  the  proposed  sentence, — ascending  and  descending. 


8. — do — 0 — e-in-me. — Virtue  alone  survirea. 

7.     si     0    i  in  die.     Virtue  alone  survives. 
-6. — ^la — 0 — o-in-do. — Virtue  alone  survives.^- — 


5.    sol    0      0  in  no.     Virtue  alone  survives 
-4. — fa — 0 — a-in-at. — Virtue  alone  survives. — 


3.    mi    ^     a  in  ate.     Virtue  alone  survives. 

-o-in-far. — Virtue  alone  survives. ■■ 

a  in  oil.     Virtue  alone  survives. 

Although  the  voice  is  capable  of  as  many  variations  in 
speaking,  as  are  marked  on  the  musical  scale,  yet  for  all  the 
purposes  of  ordinary  elocution,  it  will  be  sufficiently  exact  if  we 
make  but  three  degrees  of  variation,  viz.,  the  Low^  the  Middle, 
and  the  High. 

1.  The  Low  Pitch  is  that  which  falls  below  the  usual 
speaking  key,  and  is  employed  in  expressing  emotions  of 
sublimity  J  awe,  and  reverence. 

EXAMPLE. 

Silence,  how  dead !  darkness,  how  profound ! 

Nor  eye,  nor  list'ning  ear,  an  object  finds ; 

Creation  sleeps.     'Tis  as  the  general  pulse 

Of  life  stood  still,  and  Nature  made  a  pause, — 

4:11  awful  pause !  prophetic  of  her  end.  young. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  g7 

2.  The  Middle  Pitch  is  that  usually  employed  in  common 
conversation,  and  in  expressing  unimpassioned  thought  and 
moderate  emotion. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  It  -was  early  in  a  summer  morning,  when  the  air  was  cool,  the 
earth  moist,  the  whole  face  of  the  creation  fresh  and  gay,  that  I  lately 
walked  in  a  beautiful  flower  garden,  and,  at  once,  regaled  the  senses 
and  indulged  the  fancy.  hebvet. 

2.  "/Zoue  to  live"  said  a  prattling  boy, 

As  he  gayly  played  with  his  new-bought  toy, 
And  a  merry  laugh  went  echoing  forth, 
From  a  bosom  filled  with  joyous  mirth. 

3.  The  High  Pitch  is  thai;  which  rises  above  the  usual 
speaking  key,  and  is  used  in  expressing  joyous  and  elevated 
feelings. 

,       example. 

'iligher,  higher,  ever  higher, — 
Let  the  watchword  be  "Aspire  I" 

Noble  Christian  youth ; 
Whatsoe'er  be  God's  behest, 
Try  to  do  that  duty  best, 

In  the  strength  of  Truth.  if.  r.  tuppek. 

QUANTITY. 

Quantity  is  two-fold ; — consisting  in  fullness  or 
VOLUME  of  sound,  as  soft  or  loud ;  and  in  time,  as  slow 
or  quick.  The  former  has  reference  to  stress;  the 
latter,  to  movement. 

The  degrees  of  variation  in  quantity  are  numerous,  varying 
from  a  slight,  soft  whisper  to  a  vehement  shout.  But  for  all 
practical  purposes,  they  may  be  considered  as  three,  the  same 
as  in  pitch ; — the  soft,  the  middle,  and  the  loud. 

For  exercise  in  quantity,  let  the  pupil  read  any  sentence,  as, 

"Beauty  is  a  fading  flower," 


88  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

first  in  a  slight,  soft  tone,  and  then  repeat  it,  gradually  in- 
creasing in  quantity  to  the  full  extent  of  the  voice.  Also,  let 
him  read  it  first  very  slowly,  and  then  repeat  it  gradually 
increasing  the  movement.  In  doing  this,  he  should  be  careful 
not  to  vary  the  pitch. 

In  like  manner,  let  him  repeat  any  vowel  sound,  or  all  of 
them,  and  also  inversely.     Thus : 

000000  0  0  OOO 
OOOOOOOOOoo 

Remark. — Quantity  is  often  mistaken  for  Pitch.  But  it 
should  be  borne  in  mind  that  quantity  has  reference  to  loudness 
or  volume  of  sound,  and  pitch  to  the  elevation  or  depression  of  a 
tone.  The  difference  may  be  distinguished  by  the  slight  and 
heavy  strokes  on  a  bell : — both  of  which  produce  sounds  alike 
in  pitch ;  but  they  differ  in  quantity  or  loudness^  in  proportion 
as  the  strokes  are  light  or  heavy. 

RULES   FOR   QUANTITY. 

1.  Soft,  or  Subdued  Tones,  are  those  which  range  from  a 
whisper  to  a  complete  vocality,  and  are  used  to  express  fear^ 
caution  J  secrecy^  solemnity^  and  all  tender  emotions. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  We  watched  her  breathing  through  the  night, 

Her  breathing  soft  and  low, 
As  in  her  breast  the  wave  of  life 

Kept  heaving  to  and  fro.  hood. 

2.  Softly,  peacefully, 

Lay  her  to  rest ; 
Place  the  turf  lightly, 

On  her  young  breast.  d.  e.  goodman. 

8.  The  loud  wind  dwindled  to  a  whisper  low, 

And  sighed  for  pity  as  it  answered, — "  No." 


NUMBER    FOUR.  39 

2.  A  Middle  Tone,  or  medium  loudness  of  voice,  is  em- 
ployed in  reading  narrative^  descriptive^  or  didactic  sentences. 

EXAMPLE. 

I  lore  my  country's  pine-clad  hills, 
Her  thousand  bright  and  gushing  rills, 

Her  sunshine  and  her  storms ; 
Her  rough  and  rugged  rocks  that  rear  ^ 

Their  hoary  heads  high  in  the  air, 

In  wild  fantastic  forms. 

3.  A  Loud  Tone,  or  fullness  and  stress  of  voice  is  used  in 
expressing  violent  passions  and  vehement  emotions. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Stand  !  the  ground^ s  your  ovm,  my  braves, — 
Will  ye  give  it  up  to  ilaves  ? 

"Will  ye  look  for  greener  graves  f 

Hope  ye  mercy  still  ?  • 

What's  the  mercy  despots  feel? 
.  Hear  it  in  that  battle-peal, — 
Bead  it  on  yon  bristling  steel, — . 

Ask  it — ge  who  will  I  piebpont. 

2.  **  Hold  !"  Tyranny  cries  ;  but  their  resolute  breath 
Sends  back  the  reply :  *'  Independence  or  death  !" 


QUALITY. 

Quality  has  reference  to  the  kind  of  sound  uttered. 

Two  sounds  may  be  alike  in  quantity  and  pitch,  yet  diflfer  in 
quality.  The  sounds  produced  on  the  clarinet  and  flute,  may 
agree  in  pitch  and  quantity,  yet  be  unlike  in  quality.  The 
same  is  true  in  regard  to  the  tones  of  the  voice  of  two  indi- 
viduals. This  difference  is  occasioned  mainly  by  the  different 
positions  of  the  vocal  organs. 

The  qualities  of  voice  mostly  used  in  reading  or  speaking, 
and  which  should  receive  the  highest  degree  of  culture,  are  the 
Pure  Tone,  the  Orotund,  the  Aspirated,  and  the  Guttural. 


40  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

RULES  FOR  QUALITY. 

1.  The  Pure  Tone  is  a  clear,  smooth,  sonorous  flow  of 
sound,  usually  accompanied  with  the  middle  pitch  of  voice, 
and  is  adapted  to  express  emotions  oijoy^  cheerfulness^  love,  and 
tranquillity. 

EXAMPLE. 

Hail !  beauteous  stranger  of  the  wood, 

Attendant  on  the  spring, 
Now  heaven  repairs  thy  vernal  seat, 

And  woods  thy  welcome  sing. 

2.  The  Orotund  is  a  full,  deep,  round,  and  pure  tone  of 
voice,  peculiarly  adapted  in  expressing  sublime  and  pathetic 
emotions. 

EXAMPLE. 

It  thunders !     Sons  of  dust,  in  reverence  bow ! 
Ancient  of  Days !  Thou  speakest  from  above : 
Almighty !  trembling,  like  a  timid  child, 
I  hear  thy  awful  voice.     Alarmed — afraid — 
I  see  the  flashes  of  thy  lightning  wild, 
And  in  the  very  grave  would  hide  my  head. 

3.  The  Aspirated  Tone  of  voice  is  not  a  pure,  vocal  sound, 
but  rather  a  forcible  breathing  utterance,  and  is  used  to  express 

•  amazement,  fear,  terror,  anger,  revenge,  remorse,  and  fervent 
emotions. 

EXAMPLE. 

Oh,  coward  conscience,  how  dost  thou  aflFright  me  I 
The  lights  burn  blue.     It  is  now  dead  midnight ; 
Cold,  fearful  drops  stand  on  my  trembling  flesh. 

4.  The  Guttural  Quality  is  a  deep,  aspirated  tone  of^ 
voice,  used  to  express  aversion,  hatred^  loathing,  and  contempt. 

EXAMPLE. 

Tell  me  I  hate  the  bowl  ?         " 

Hate  is  a  feeble  word : 
I  loathe^  ABHOR,  my  very  soul 

With  strong  disgust  is  stirred, 
Whene'er  I  see,  or  hear,  or  tell, 
Of  the  dark  beverage  of  hell. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  41 


NOTATION  IN   MODULATION. 


(  «  )  high.  (  p.  )  soft. 

(°  °)  high  and  loud.  {pp.)  very  soft. 

(o)low.  (/)loud. 

(o  o)  low  and  loud.  (/.  )  very  loud. 

(=)  quick.  (p^-)  plaintive. 

(  "  )  short  and  quick.  (  O  increase. 

(s^.)  slow.  (^)  decrease. 

EXAMPLES    FOR   EXERCISB   IN   MODULATIOlT. 

{p.)     Soft  is  the  strain  when  zephyr  gently  blows, 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows ; 

(/.)      But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore. 

The  hoarse  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar. 

{si.)     When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw, 
The  line,  too,  labors,  and  the  words  move  slow ; 

(— -)      Not  so,  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain, 

Flies  o'er  the  unbending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  main,    popm 

(-L)  Go  ring  the  bells  and  fire  the  guns. 

And  fling  the  starry  banner  out ; 
{ff.)  Shout  •*  Feeedom"  till  your  lisping  ones 

Give  back  the  cradle  shout.  whittibiu 

{pi.)  "And  now,  farewell !     *Tis  hard  to  give  thee  up, 

With  death  so  like  a  gentle  slumber  on  thee ! — 
And  thy  dark  sin ! — oh !  I  could  drink  the  cup. 
If  from  this  woe  its  bitterness  had  won  thee. 
May  God  have  called  thee,  like  a  wanderer,  home, 

"    My  lost  boy,  Absalom  I"  wiLUg. 

{si.)  The  sun  hath  set  in  folded  clouds, — 

Its  twilight  rays  are  gone, 
(q)  And,  gathered  in  the  shades  of  night. 

The  storm  is  rolling  on. 
{pi.)  Alas !  how  ill  that  bursting  storm 

('^)  The  fainting  spirit  braves, 

{p. )  When  they, — the  lovely  and  the  lost, — 

{pi.)  Are  gone  to  early  graves ! 


4g  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

(°)  On  I  onward  still !  o'er  the  land  he  sweeps, 

(<[)  ^^^^  wreck,  and  ruin,  and  rush,  and  roar, 

Nor  stops  to  look  back 

On  his  dreary  track, 
(''^)  But  speeds  to  the  spoils  before.         miss  j.  h.  lewis. 

From  every  battle-field  of  the  revolution— from  Lexington  and  Bunker 
Hill — from  Saratoga  and  Yorktown — from  the  fields  of  Eutaw — from  the 
cane-brakes  that  sheltered  the  men  of  Marion — the  repeated,  long- 
prolonged  echoes  came  up — (/.)  "  The  Union  :  it  must  be  preserved." 
(<[)  From  every  valley  in  our  land — from  every  cabin,  on  the  pleasant 
mountain  sides — from  the  ships  at  our  wharves — from  the  tents  of  the 
hunter  in  our  westernmost  prairies — from  the  living  minds  of  the  living 
millions  of  American  freemen — from  the  thickly  coming  glories  of  futu- 
rity— the  shout  went  up,  like  the  sound  of  many  waters,  {ff.)  **THE 
UNION:   IT  MUST  BE  PRESERVED."  Bancroft. 

(;>.)  Hark! 

{9I.)         Along  the  vales  and  mountains  of  the  earth 
(o)  There  is  a  deep,  portentous  murmuring, 

(=)         Like  the  swift  rush  of  subterranean  streams. 

Or  like  the  mingled  sounds  of  earth  and  air. 

When  the  fierce  tempest,  with  sonorous  wing. 

Heaves  his  deep  folds  upon  the  rushing  winds, 
(<^^        And  hurries  onward,  with  his  night  of  clouds. 

Against  the  eternal  mountains.     'Tis  the  voice 

Of  infant  Freedom, — and  her  stirring  call 

Is  heard  and  answered  in  a  thousand  tones 
(<^)        From  every  hill-top  of  her  western  home ; 

And  lo !  it  breaks  across  old  Ocean's  flood, — 
(°°)  And  "Freedom!  Freedom!"  is  the  answering  shout 

Of  nations,  starting  from  the  spell  of  years,     o.  d.  pbentioi. 

C^'S  The  thunders  hushed, — 

The  trembling  lightning  fled  away  in  fear,— 

(j3.)  The  foam-capt  surges  sunk  to  quiet  rest, — 

The  raging  winds  grew  still, — 

(js»j3.)  There  was  a  calm. 

(**/**/)         "Quick!     Man  the  boat!"     (=:)  Away  they  spring 

The  stranger  ship  to  aid, 
(/.)  And  loud  their  haling  voices  ring. 

As  rapid  speed  they  made. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  43 

{p.)  Hush!  lightly  tread!  still  tranquilly  she  ^eeps; 

I've  watched,  suspending  e'en  my  breath,  in  fear 
To  break  the  heavenly  spell,     {pp-}  Move  silently. 

Can  it  be  ? 
Matter  immortal  ?  and  shall  spirit  die  ? 
Above  the  nobler,  shall  less  nobler  rise  ? 
(<^)  Shall  man  alone,  for  whom  all  else  revives, 

No  resurrection  know  ?     (°<C)  Shall  man  alone, 

Imperial  man  !  be  sown  in  barren  ground, 

Less  privileged  than  grain,  on  which  he  feeds  ?       youwo. 

(=)  Away  !  away  to  the  mountain's  brow. 

Where  the  trees  are  gently  waving ; 

(^)  Away !  away  to  the  vale  below, 

Where  the  streams  are  gently  laving. 

An  hour  passed  on ; — the  Turk  awoke ; — 

That  bright  dream  was  his  last ; — 
He  woke — to  hear  his  sentry's  shriek, 
(<'<*)  '<To  ARMS  !  they  come!  (ff.)  the  Greek!  the  Gbexk!" 

{pi.)        He  woke — to  die,  midst  flame  and  smoke, 
And  shout,  and  groan,  and  saber-stroke, 
And  death-shots  falling  thick  and  fast 
As  lightnings  from  the  mountain  cloud ; 
And  heard,  with  voice  as  trumpet  loud, 
Bozzaris  cheer  his  band ; — 
(°^)  "  Strike — till  the  last  armed  foe  expires ! 

Strike — for  your  altars  and  your  fires  I 
Strike — for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires  I 
God,  and  your  native  land !"  halleck. 

He  said,  and  on  the  rampart  hights  arrayed 
His  trusty  warriors,  few,  but  undismayed ; 
[si.)  Firm-paced  and  slow,  a  horrid  front  they  form, 

{pp.)  Still  as  the  breeze,  (qq)  but  dreadful  as  the  storm! 

{Pq.)  Low,  murmuring  sounds  along  their  banners  fly, 

(jf.)  Revenge,  or  death  ! — the  watchword  and  reply ; 

(°°)  Then  pealed  the  notes,  omnipotent  to  charm, 

(/.)  And  the  loud  tocsin  tolled  their  last  alarm !        cahpbell. 

0*'\  His  speech  was  at  first  low-toned  and  slow.  Sometimes  his 
▼oice  would  deepen,  (q^)  like  the  sound  of  distant  thunder;  and  anon, 
(''')  his  flashes  of  wit  and  enthusiasm  would  light  up  the  anxious  faces 
of  his  hearers,  (<1)  like  the  far-off  lightning  of  a  coming  storm. 


44  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

(^)  Receding  now,  the  dying  numbers  ring 

(p.)  Fainter  and  fainter,  down  the  rugged  dell: 

(jPP')        -And  now — 'tis  silent  all — enchantress,  fare  thee  well. 

(=)  Oh,  joy  to  the  world !  the  hour  is  come, 

"When  the  nations  to  freedom  awake, 
When  the  royalists  stand  agape  and  dumb, 

And  monarchs  with  terror  shake  I 
Over  the  walls  of  majesty, 

^*  Upharsin"  is  writ  in  words  of  fire. 
And  the  eyes  of  the  bondmen,  wherever  they  be, 
Are  lit  with  their  wild  desire. 
(<^)  Soon,  soon  shall  the  thrones  that  blot  the  world, 

Like  the  Orleans,  into  the  dust  be  hurl'd, 
And  the  world  roll  on,  like  a  hurricane's  breath, 
Till  the  farthest  nation  hears  what  it  saith, — 
if-)  ''ARISE!   ARISE!   BE  FREE r»  t.  b.  biad 

(^•)  Tread  softly— bow  the  head,— 

In  reverent  silence  bow, — 
No  passing  bell  doth  toll, — 
(pi.)  Yet  an  immortal  soul 

Is  passing  now.  mrs.  southet. 

( °)  Speak  out,  my  friends ;  would  you  exchange  it  for  the  demon's 
DBiNK,  (ff.)  ALCOHOL?  A  shout,  like  the  roar  of  a  tempest,  an- 
swered, (°o)  NO! 

(^^)  The  combat  deepens !     (/*.)  On!  te  brave! 

(=)  Who  rush  to  glory,  (p.)  or  the  grave  ! 

(#.)  Wave,  Munich,  all  thy  banners  wave  ! 

And  CHARGE  with  all  thy  Chivalry  ! 
(pi.)  Ah!  few  shall  part  where  many  meet  I 

The  snow  shall  be  their  winding  sheet, 

And  every  turf  beneath  their  feet 
(^•)  Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulcher  I  Campbell. 

(si.)   At  length,  o'er  Columbus  slow  consciousness  breaks, 

(00)     »»Land!    land!"   cry  the  sailors;    (/.)    "land!    land!"— he 

awakes^ — 
(^^)    He  runs, — ^yes !  behold  it  I  it  blesseth  his  sight  \ 
The  land  I  0,  dear  spectacle  !  transport  I  delight ! 


NUMBER   FOUR.  45 

SECTION  V. 

THE   RHETORICAL   PAUSE. 

Rhetorical  Pauses  are  those  which  are  frequently 
required  by  the  voice  in  reading  and  speaking,  although 
the  construction  of  the  passage  admits  of  no  grammatical 
pause. 

These  pauses  are  as  manifest  to  the  ear,  as  those  which  are 
made  by  the  comma,  semicolon,  or  other  grammatical  pauses, 
though  not  commonly  denoted  in  like  manner  by  any  visible 
sign      In  the  following  examples  they  are  denoted  thus,  (  \\ ). 

EXAMPLES, 

1.  In  slumbers  of  midnight  II  the  sailor-boy  lay, 

His  hammock  swung  loose  ||  at  the  sport  of  the  wind ; 
But  watch-worn  and  weary,  |j  his  cares  flew  away, 
And  visions  of  happiness  1|  danced  o'er  his  mind.      dimosd. 

2.  There  is  a  land,]]  of  every  land  the  pride. 
Beloved  of  heaven  ||  o'er  all  the  world  beside ; 
Where  brighter  suns  ||  dispense  serener  light, 
And  milder  moons  ||  imparaidise  the  night, 

0,  thou  shalt  find,||  howe'er  thy  footsteps  roam. 

That  land  thy  country,  ||  and  that  spot  thy  home  f  ,     > 

Tbis  pause  is  generally  made  before  or  after  the  utterance 
of  some  important  word  or  clause,  on  which  it  is  especially 
d<Miired  to  fix  the  attention.  In  such  cases  it  is  usually  denoted 
by  the  use  of  the  dash  ( — ). 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  God  said— "iic<  there  be  lightT 

2.  All  dead  and  silent  was  the  earth,  « 

In  deepest  night  it  lay ; 
The  Eternal  spoke  creation's  word, 
And  called  to  being— Pay ! 


46  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

No  definite  rule  can  be  given  with  reference  to  the  length  of 
the  rhetorical,  or  grammatical  pause.  The  correct  taste  of  the 
reader  or  speaker  must  determine  it.  For  the  voice  should 
sometimes  be  suspended  much  longer  at  the  same  pause  in  one 
situation  than  in  another  j  as  in  the  two  following 

EXAMPLES. 
LONa  PAUSE. 

Pause  a  moment.  I  heard  a  footstep.  Listen  now.  I  heard  it 
again ;  but  it  is  going  from  us.  It  sounds  fainter, — still  fainter. 
It  is  gone. 

SHORT  PAUSE. 

John,  be  quick.  Get  some  water.  Throw  the  powder  overboard. 
"It  can  not  be  reached."  Jump  into  the  boat,  then.  Shove  off.  Ther« 
goes  the  powder.     Thank  Heaven.     We  are  safe. 


REMARKS  TO  TEACHERS. 

It  is  of  the  utmost  importance,  in  order  to  secure  an  easy  aud 
elegant  style  in  reading,  to  refer  the  pupil  often  to  the  more 
important  principles  involved  in  a  just  elocution.  To  this  end, 
it  will  be  found  very  advantageous,  occasionally  to  review  the 
rules  and  directions  given  in  the  preceding  pages,  and  thus 
early  accustom  him  to  apply  them  in  the  subsequent  reading 
lessons.  For  a  wider  range  of  examples  and  illustrations,  it  is 
only  necessary  to  refer  to  the  numerous  and  various  exercises 
which  form  the  body  of  this  book.  They  have  been  selected, 
in  many  cases,  with  a  special  view  to  this  object. 


PART   SKGONH. 


LESSON  I. 

HJ^R'  0  i$M,  bravery ;  courage.  ^  Res'  ou  ed,  saved ;  preserved. 

Ma  li"  cious,  ill-disposed;  resentful  ^  Di$  as'  ter,  calamity. 

Am  bi"  tion,  eager  desire.  <  In  olin'  ed,  disposed. 

Sar  CAS'  tic,  severe ;  cutting.  (  Sym'  pa  thy,  fellow-feeling. 

De  rib'  ion,  ridicule.  (  Ten'  der  ed,  offered. 

Con  fer'  red,  bestowed.  \  A  pol'  o  gy,  excuse. 

TRUE    HEROISM* 

OSBOKNB. 

1.  I  shall  never  forget  a  les8on  which  I  received  when 
quite  a  young  lad,  while  attending  an  Academy.  Among 
my  schoolmates  were  Hartly  and  Vincent.  They  were  both 
older  than  myself,  and  Vincent  was  looked  up  to,  as  a  sort  of 
leader  in  matters  of  opinion,  and  in  directing  our  sports. 

2.  He  was  not,  at  heart,  a  malicious  boy ;  but  he  had  a 
foolish  ambition  of  being  thought  witty  and  sarcastic ;  and  he 
made  himself  feared  by  a  habit  of  turning  things  into  ridi- 
cule. He  seemed  to  be  constantly  looking  out  for  some- 
thing to  occur,  which  he  could  turn  into  derision. 

3.  Hartly  was  a  new  scholar,  and  little  was  known  of 
him  among  the  boys.  One  morning,  as  we  were  on  our  way 
to  school,  he  was  seen  driving  a  cow  along  the  road  toward 
the  pasture.  A  group  of  boys,  among  whom  was  Vincent, 
met  him  as  he  was  passing. 

w    4.    ''Now,"  said  Vincent,   '^et  us  have  a  little  sport 
with  our  country  rustic."    So  saying,  he  exclaimed :  "Halloo, 


48  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Jonathan  !*  what  is  the  price  of  milk  ?  What  do  you  feed 
her  on  ?  "What  will  you  take  for  all  the  gold  on  her  horns  ? 
Boys,  if  you  want  to  see  the  latest  Paris  style,  look  at  those 
boots !" 

5.  Hartly  waved  his  hand  at  us  with  a  pleasant  smile, 
and,  driving  the  cow  to  the  field,  took  down  the  bars  of  a 
rail-fence,  saw  her  safely  in  the  pasture,  and  then,  putting 
up  the  bars,  came  and  entered  the  school  with  the  rest  of 
us.  After  school,  in  the  afternoon,  he  let  out  the  cow,  and 
drove  her  away,  none  of  us  knew  where.  Every  day.  for 
two  or  three  weeks,  he  went  through  the  same  task. 

6.  The  boys  who  attended  the  Academy,  were  nearly  all 
the  sons  of  wealthy  parents,  and  some  of  them  were  foolish 
enough  to  look  down,  with  a  sort  of  disdain,  upon  a  scholar 
who  had  to  drive  a  cow  to  pasture ;  and  the  sneers  and  jeers 
of  Yincent  were  often  repeated. 

7.  One  day,  he  refused  to  sit  next  to  Hartly  in  school,  on 
a  pretense  that  he  did  not  like  the  odor  of  the  barn.  Some- 
times he  would  inquire  of  Hartly  after  the  cow's  health,  pro- 
nouncing the  word  "  ke-ow,''  after  the  manner  of  some  people. 

8.  Hartly  bore  all  these  silly  attempts  to  wound  his  feel- 
ings and  annoy  him,  with  the  utmost  good  nature.  He 
never  once  returned  an  angry  look  or  word.  One  time, 
Vincent  said:  ''Hartly,  I  suppose  your  father  intends  to 
make  a  milkman  of  you." 

9.  "Why  not  ?"  said  Hartly.  "  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Yin- 
cent  ;  "  only  do  not  leave  much  water  in  the  cans  after 
rinsing  them — that's  all!"  The  boys  laughed,  and  Hartly, 
not  in  the  least  mortified,  replied :  "  Never  fear ;  if  I 
ever  rise  to  be  a  milkman,  I  will  give  good  measure  and 
good  milk  too." 

10.  A  few  days  after  this  conversation,  there  was  a  pub^,, 

*  JL  titie  frequently  applied  to  the  Tankees  by  the  English. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  ^Q 

lie  exhibition,  at  which  a  number  of  ladies  and  gentlemen 
from  the  city,  was  present.  Prizes  were  awarded  by  the 
Principal  of  the  Academy,  and  Hartly  and  Vincent  each  re- 
ceived one:  for,  in  respect  to  scholarship,  they  were  about  equal. 

11.  After  the  prizes  were  distributed,  the  Principal  re- 
marked that  there  was  one  prize,  consisting  of  a  medal, 
which  was  rarely  awarded,  not  so  much  on  account  of  its 
great  value,  as  because  the  instances  are  rare  that  merit  it. 
It  is  THE  PkiZE  FOR  HEROISM.  The  last  boy  on  whom  it 
was  conferred,  was  Master  Manners,  who,  three  years  ago, 
rescued  the  blind  girl  from  drowning. 

12.  The  Principal  then  said,  ^'  With  the  permission  of  the 
company,  I  will  relate  a  short  story.  Not  long  since,  some 
boys  were  flying  a  kite  in  the  street,  just  as  a  poor  boy  on 
horseback  rode  by,  on  his  way  to  mill.  The  horse  took 
fright,  and  threw  the  boy,  injuring  him  so  badly  that  he  was 
carried  home,  and  confined  for  some  weeks  to  his  bed. 

13.  "  None  of  the  boys  who  had  caused  the  disaster,  fol- 
lowed to  learn  the  fate  of  the  wounded  boy.  There  was  one, 
however,  who  witnessed  the  accident  from  a  distance,  and 
went  to  render  what  service  he  could.  He  soon  learned  that 
the  wounded  boy  was  the  grandson  of  a  poor  widow,  whose 
only  support  consisted  in  selling  the  milk  of  a  fine  cow,  of 
which  she  was  the  owner. 

14.  ^' Alas!  what  could  she  now  do?  She  was  old  and 
lame,  and  her  grandson,  on  whom  she  depended  to  drive 
the  cow  to  pasture,  was  now  sick  and  helpless.  '  Never 
mind,  good  woman,'  said  the  boy,  '  I  can  drive  your  cow.' 
With  thanks,  the  poor  widow  accepted  his  ofier. 

15.  "  But  the  boy's  kindness  did  not  stop  here.  Money 
was  wanted  to  purchase  medicine.  '  I  have  money  that  my 
mother  sent  me  to  buy  a  pair  of  boots,'  said  the  boy  ;  '  but 
I  can  do  without  them  for  the  present.' 

16.  '' '  Oh,  no  !'  said  the  old  lady,  '  I  can  not  consent  to 
4U  3 


50  'SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

that ;  but  here  is  a  pair  of  cowhide  boots  that  I  bought  for 
Henry,  who  can  not  wear  them.  If  you  will  buy  them,  giv- 
ing me  what  they  cost,  I  can  get  along  very  well.'  The  boy 
bought  the  boots,  clumsy  as  they  were,  and  has  worn  them 
up  to  this  time. 

17.  "  When  the  other  boys  of  the  Academy  saw  this 
scholar  driving  a  cow  to  the  pasture,  he  was  assailed  with 
laughter  and  ridicule.  His  thick  cowhide  boots,  in  partic- 
ular, were  made  matters  of  mirth.  But  he  kept  on  cheer- 
fully and  bravely,  day  after  day,  driving  the  widow's  cow  to 
the  pasture,  and  wearing  his  thick  boots,  contented  in  the 
thought  that  he  was  doing  right^  not  caring  for  all  the  jeers 
and  sneers  that  could  be  uttered. 

18.  "  He  never  undertook  to  explain  why  he  drove  the 
cow ;  for  he  was  not  inclined  to  display  his  charitable  mo- 
tives, and  besides,  in  heart,  he  had  no  sympathy  with  the 
false  pride  that  looks  with  ridicule  on  any  useful  employ- 
ment. It  was  by  mere  accident  that  his  course  of  conduct 
and  se^f-denial,  was  yesterday  discovered  by  his  teacher. 

19.  "  And  now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  appeal  to  you. 
Was  there  not  true  heroism  in  this  boy's  conduct'  ?  Nay, 
Master  Hartly,  do  not  steal  out  of  sight  behind  the  black- 
board !  You  were  not  ashamed  of  ridicide — you  must  not 
shun  praise.  Come  forth^  come  forth,  Master  Edward 
James  Hartly,  and  let  us  see  your  honest  face  !'^ 

20.  As  Hartly,  with  blushing  cheeks,  made  his  appear- 
ance, the  whole  company  greeted  him  with  a  round  of  ap- 
plause for  his  heroic  conduct.  The  ladies  stood  upon 
benches,  and  waved  their  handkerchiefs.  The  old  men 
clapped  their  hands,  and  wiped  the  moisture  from  the  cor- 
ners of  their  eyes.  Those  clumsy  boots  on  Hartly's  feet 
seemed  prouder  ornaments,  than  a  crown  would  have  beeii«j^ 
on  his  head.  The  medal  was  bestowed  on  him,  amid  the  ap- 
plause of  the  whole  company. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  51 

21.  Vincent  was  heartily  ashamed  of  his  ill-natured 
sneers,  and,  after  the  school  was  dismissed,  he  went,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  and  tendered  his  hand  to  Hartly,  making 
a  handsome  apology  for  his  past  ill  manners.  "  Think  no 
more  about  it,"  said  Hartly ;  "let  us  all  go  and  have  a  ram- 
ble in  the  woods,  before  we  break  up  for  vacation."  The 
boys,  one  and  all,  followed  Vincent's  example,  .and  then, 
with  shouts  and  huzzas,  they  all  set  forth  into  the  woods — 
a  happy,  cheerful  group. 

Questions. — 1.  In  what  way  didYincent  try  to  make  derision  of  Hartly? 
2.  How  did  Hartly  receive  it  ?  3.  For  what  did  Hartly  receive  a  prize  from 
his  teacher  ?  4.  How  did  the  spectators  manifest  their  approbation  of  Hart- 
ly's  conduct  ? 

LESSON    II. 

A  vert'  ED,  turned  aside.  >  Plate,  dishes  of  gold  or  silver  ware. 


Re  pent'  ant,  contrite ;  sorrowful. 
Sin  cere',  honest ;  true-hearted. 
Se  vere',  harsh ;  rigid. 
Taunts,  scoffs ;  insults. 


De  $ert',  forsake  ;  abandon. 
Fail'  ure,  want  of  success. 
Sid'  ing,  taking  part. 
Tyr'  an  NY,  oppression ;  cruelty. 


YOU  AND  U 

Charles  Mack  at. 

1.  Who  would  scorn  his  humble  fellow 

For  the  coat  he  wears  ? 
For  the  poverty  he  suffers  ? 

For  his  daily  cares  ? 
Who  would  pass  him  in  the  foot-way 

With  averted  eye  ? 
Would  you^  brother'  ?     No\ — ^you  would  not. 

If  you  would, — not  /. 

2.  Who,  when  vice  or  crime  repentant, 

With  a  grief  sincere, 
Asked  for  pardon,  would  refuse  it, 
More  than  heaven  severe  ? 


52  SANDERS'    UNION    SEHIES. 

Who,  to  erring  woman's  sorrow, 

Would  with  taunts  repl j  ? 
Would  you^  brother'  ?     No\ — ^you  would  not. 

If  you  would, — not  /. 

3.  Would  you  say  that  Vice  is  Virtue 

In  a  hall  of  state'  ? 
Or,  that  rogues  are  not  dishonest 

If  they  dine  off  plate'? 
Who  would  say  Success  and  Merit 

Ne'er  part  company'? 
Would  2/ow,  brother' ?     No\ — you  2^?ow/g?  not. 

If  you  would, — not  /. 

4.  Who  would  give  a  cause  his  efforts 

When  the  cause  is  strong ; 
But  desert  it  on  its  failure. 

Whether  right  or  wrong'  ? 
Ever  siding  with  the  upmost, 

Letting  downmost  lie  ? 
Would  you^  brother'  ?     No\ — ^you  would  not. 

\iyou  would, — not  /. 

5.  Who  would  lend  his  arm  to  strengthen 

Warfare  with  the  right'  ? 
Who  would  give  his  pen  to  blacken 

Freedom's  page  of  light'  ? 
Who  would  lend  his  tongue  to  utter 

Praise  of  tyranny'? 
Would  you^  brother'?     No', — ^you  would  not. 

If  you  would, — not  /. 

Questions. — 1.  What  rule  for  the  rising  and  falling  inflections,  first  verse  ? 
iSee  page  28.  2.  Repeat  the  rule.  3.  What  rule  for  the  falling  inflections, 
fifth  verse  ?  See  page  29.  4.  Repeat  the  rule.  What  is  the  meaning  of 
the  suffix  en,  in  the  words  strengthen,  blacken  f  See  Sanders  and  McElu- 
gott's  Analysis  of  English  Words,  p.  132,  Ex.  174. 


NUMBER   POUR.  53 

LESSON    III. 

"W4B'  FARE,  conflict ;  struggle.  \  Ya'  ri  ed,  changing ;  different. 

Clutch'  e$,  paws ;  firm  grasp.  s  "Wave$,  moves  to  and  fro. 

Do  min'  ion,  rule;  sway.  I  Pro  phet'  ic,  (j9^1ike/.)  foretelling. 

Pin'  ion,  wing ;  as  of  a  bird.  (  De  spi$e',  scorn ;  disdain. 

Pre"  cious,  costly ;  valuable.  (  Goal,  the  mark  that  bounds  a  race. 

Scoff'  er,  scomer.  (  Beck'  on,  motion ;  invite  with  the 

[hand. 

LIFERS    WORK. 

1.  Life  IS  onward :  use  it 

With  a  forward  aim  ; 
Toil  is  heavenly  :  choose  it, 

And  its  warfare  claim. 
Look  not  to  another 

To  perform  your  will ; 
Let  not  your  own  brother 

Keep  your  warm  hand  still. 

2.  Life  is  onward :  never 

Look  upon  the  past ; 
It  would  hold  you  ever 

In  its  clutches  fast. 
Now  is  your  dominion ; 

Weave  it  as  you  please ;  , 

Bind  not  the  soul's  pinion 

To  a  bed  of  ease. 

3.  Life  is  onward  :  try  it, 

Ere  the  day  is  lost ; 
It  hath  virtue  :  buy  it, 

At  whatever  cost. 
If  the  World  should  offer 

Every  precious  gem, 
Look  not  at  the  scoffer, 

Change  it  not  for  them. 


54  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

4.  Life  is  onicard :  heed  it, 

In  each  varied  dress ; 
Your  own  act  can  speed  it 

On  to  happiness. 
His  bright  pinion  o'er  you 

Time  waves  not  in  vain, 
If  Hope  chant  before  you 

Her  prophetic  strain. 

5.  Life  is  onward  :  prize  it. 

In  sunshine  and  in  storm.; 
Oh  !  do  not  despise  it 

In  its  humblest  form. 
Hope  and  Joy  together, 

Standing  at  the  goal, 
Through  life's  darkest  weather, 

Beckon  on  the  soul. 

Questions. — 1.  What  do  it  and  them  refer  to,  third  verse,  last  line?  2. 
Repeat  the  word  sunshine  several  times  in  quick  succession. 

LESSON   IV. 

Ac  cus'  TOM  ED,  used  ;  habituated.     5  Mon'  arch,  sovereign ;  ruler. 

Plan  ta'  tions,  settlements.  ^  Con  ceal'  ed,  hid ;  secreted. 

Pro  tec'  tion,  safety ;  defense.  s  Re  stor'  ed,  brought  back. 

Re  proach'  ful,  reproving.  <  Yi'  o  lence,  outrage  ;  wrong. 

Cap'  tur  ed,  taken  prisoners.  j  Re  buk'  ed,  reproved. 

De  cid'  ed,  concluded.  \  League,  compact;  alliance. 

Cor'  0  NET,  little  crown.  j  Ter'  ri  ble,  fearful ;  dreadful. 

Sa  lut'  ed,  greeted.  )  At  tend'  ant,  waiter ;  servant. 

THE    YOUNG    CAPTIVES* 

1.  Many  years  ago,  during  the  early  settlements  in  New 
England,  the  children  were  accustomed  to  gather  large  quan- 
tities of  nuts,  which  grew  in  great  abundance  in  the  forests 
that  surrounded  their  little  plantations. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  55 

2.  In  one  of  these  nut-gatberings,  a  little  boy  and  girl, 
the  one  eight  and  the  other  four  years  of  age,  whose  mother 
was  dead,  became  separated  from  their  companions.  On 
their  way  home,  they  came  across  some  wild  grapes,  and 
were  busily  engaged  in  gathering  them,  till  the  last  rays  of 
the  setting  sun  were  fading  away. 

3.  Suddenly  they  were  seized  by  two  Indians.  The  boy 
struggled  violently,  and  his  little  sister  cried  to  him  for  pro- 
tection ;  but  in  vain.  The  Indians  soon  bore  them  far  beyond 
the  bounds  of  the  settlement.  Night  was  far  advanced  be- 
fore they  halted.  Then  they  kindled  a  fire,  and  offered  the 
children  some  food. 

4.  The  heart  of  the  boy  swelled  high  with  grief  and 
anger,  and  he  refused  to  eat.  But  the  poor  little  girl  took 
some  parched  corn  from  the  hand  of  the  Indian  who  held  her 
on  his  knee.  He  smiled  as  he  saw  her  eat  the  kernels,  and 
look  up  in  his  face  with  a  wondering,  yet  reproachful  eye. 
Then  they  lay  down  to  sleep  in  the  dark  forest,  each  with 
an  arm  over  his  little  captive. 

5.  Great  was  the  alarm  in  the  colony  when  these  children 
did  not  return.  Every  spot  was  searched,  where  it  was 
thought  possible  they  might  have  lost  their  way.  But  when, 
at  length,  their  little  basket  was  found,  overturned  in  a  tan- 
gled thicket,  they  came  to  the  conclusion  tliat  they  must 
have  been  captured  by  the  Indians. 

6.  It  was  decided  that  before  any  warlike  measures  were 
adopted,  the  father  should  go  peacefully  to  the  Indian  king, 
and  demand  his  children.  At  the  earliest  dawn  of  morning, 
he  departed  with  his  companions.  They  met  a  friendly 
Indian  pursuing  the  chase,  who  consented  to  be  their  guide. 

7.  They  traveled  through  rude  paths,  until  the  day  drew 
near  a  close.  Then,  approaching  a  circle  of  native  dwellings, 
in  the  midst  of  which  was  a  tent,  they  saw  a  man  of  lofty 
form,  with  a  coronet  of  feathers  upon  his  brow,  and  sur- 


56 


SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 


rounded  by  warriors.  The  guide  saluted  him  as  his  mon- 
arch, and  the  bereaved  father,  bowing  down,  thus  addressed 
him  : 

8.  "  King  of  the  red  men,  thou  seest  a  father  in  pursuit 
of  his  lost  children.  He  has  heard  that  your  people  will  not 
harm  the  stranger  in  distress.  So  he  trusts  himself  fear- 
lessly among  you.  The  king  of  our  own  native  land,  who 
should  have  protected  us,  became  our  foe.  We  fled  from 
our  dear  homes — from  the  graves  of  our  fathers. 

9.  "  The  ocean  wave  brought  us  to  this  New  World.  We 
are  a  peaceful  race,  pure  from  the  blood  of  all  men.  We 
seek  to  take  the  hand  of  our  red  brethren.  Of  my  own  kin- 
dred, none  inhabit  this  wilderness,  save  two  little  buds,  from 
a  broken,  buried  stem. 

10.  "  Last  night,  sorrow  entered  into  my  soul,  because  I 
found  them  not.  Knowest  thou,  0  king,  if  thy  people  have 
taken  my  children'  ?  Knowest  thou  where  they  have  con- 
cealed them'  ?  Cause  them,  I  pray  thee,  to  be  restored 
to  my  arms.  So  shall  the  Great  Spirit  bless  thy  own 
tender  plants,  and  lift  up  thy  heart  when  it  weigheth 
heavily  on  thy  bosom." 

11.  The  Indian  monarch,  fixing  on  him  a  piercing  glance, 
said :  *'  Knowest  thou  me'  ?  Look  in  my  eyes' !  Look' ! 
Answer  meM  Are  they  the  eyes  of  a  stranger'?"  The 
bereaved  father  replied  that  he  had  no  recollection  of  having 
ever  before  seen  his  countenance. 

12.  "  Thus  it  is  with  the  white  man.  He  is  dim-eyed. 
He  looketh  on  the  garments  more  than  on  the  soul.  Where 
your  plows  turn  up  the  earth,  oft  have  I  stood  watching 
your  toil.  There  was  no  coronet  on  my  brow.  But  I  was 
king.     And  you  knew  it  not. 

13.  *'  I  looked  upon  your  people.  I  saw  neither  pride 
nor  violence.  I  went  an  enemy ^  but  returned  a  friend,  I 
said  to  my  warriors,  '  Do  these  men  no  harm.     They  do  not 


NUMBER    FOUR.  5^ 

hate  Indians.'  Then  our  white-haired  prophet  of  the  Great 
Spirit  rebuked  me.  He  bade  me  make  no  league  with  the 
pale  faces,  lest  angry  words  should  be  spoken  of  me,  among 
the  shades  of  our  buried  kings. 

14.  "  Yet,  again,  I  went  where  thy  brethren  have  reared 
their  dwellings.  Yes;  I  entered  thy  house.  And  thou 
knowest  not  this  brow'?  I  could  tell  thine  at  midnight,  if 
but  a  single  star  trembled  through  the  clouds.  My  ear 
would  know  thy  voice,  though  the  storm  was  abroad  with 
all  its  thunders. 

15.  "I  have  said  that  I  was  king.  Yet  I  came  to  thee 
hungry,  and  thou  gavest  me  bread.  My  head  was  wet  with 
the  tempest.  Thou  badest  me  lie  down  on  thy  couch,  and 
thy  son,  for  whom  thou  mournest,  covered  me. 

16.  '-I  was  sad  in  spirit,  and  thy  little  daughter,  whom 
thou  seekest  with  tears,  sat  on  my  knee.  She  smiled  when  I 
told  her  how  the  beaver  buildeth  his  house  in  the  forest.  My 
heart  was  comforted,  for  I  saw  that  she  did  not  hate  Indians. 

17.  "  Turn  not  on  me  such  a  terrible  eye.  I  am  no 
stealer  of  babes.  I  have  reproved  the  people  who  took  thy 
children.  I  have  sheltered  them  for  thee.  Not  a  hair  of 
their  head  is  hurt.  Thinkest  thou  that  the  red  man  can  for- 
get kindness'  ?  They  are  sleeping  in  my  tent  Had  I  but 
a  single  blanket,  it  should  have  been  their  bed.  Take  them, 
and  return  unto  thy  people." 

18.  He  waved  his  hand  to  an  attendant,  and,  in  a  moment, 
the  two  children  were  in  the  arms  of  their  father.  The 
white  men  were  kindly  sheltered  for  that  night,  and,  the  next 
day,  they  bore  the  children  to  their  home,  and  the  people 
rejoiced  at  their  safe  return. 

Questions. — 1.  By  whom  were  these  children  taken  captive  ?  2.  "Who 
went  in  search  of  them  ?  3.  What  did  he  say  to  the  king  of  the  tribe  ?  4. 
What  reply  did  the  Indian  monarch  make  ?  5.  Were  the  children  restored 
to  their  father?  6.  What  is  meant  by  New  World,  9th  paragraph?  7. 
What  by  two  litQa  buda,  fr9m  a  broken^  buried  stem,  same  paragraph  ? 
4U  3* 


58  SANJOKKS'    UNIOM    S1SH1KB 


LESSON   V. . 

Im'  age,  form ;  likeness.  (  Mas'  teb  t,  rule ;  sway. 

E  laps'  ED,  glided  away.  j  Un  der  went',  experienced. 

Way'  ward  ness,  perverseness.         !  Af  fec'  tion,  love ;  attachment. 
Bhud'  der  ing,  chilling  tremor.  j  Thresh'  old,  entrance. 

Pas'  sign  ate,  easily  excited  to  anger.  \  Anx  i'  e  ty,  care ;  solicitude. 
JIead'  strong,  stubborn ;  obstinate,    j  Per  pet'  u  al,  continual. 

MY   MOTHER^S   LAST  KISS* 

Mrs.  E,  Oakes  Smith. 

1.  I  was  but  five  years  old  when  my  mother  died  ;  but  her 
Image  is  as  fresh  in  my  mind,  now  that  twenty  years  have 
elapsed,  as  it  was  at  the  time  of  her  death.  I  remember  her, 
as  a  pale,  gentle  being,  with  a  sweet  smile,  and  a  voice  soft 
and  cheerful  when  she  praised  me  ;  and  when  I  had  erred, 
(for  I  was  a  wild,  thoughtless  child,)  there  was  a  mild  and 
tender  earnestness  in  her  reproofs,  that  always  went  to  my 
little  heart. 

2.  Methinks  I  can  now  see  her  large,  blue  eyes  moist 
with  sorrow,  because  of  my  childish  waywardness,  and  hear 
her  repeat :  "  My  child,  how  can  you  grieve  me  so  ?"  She 
had,  for  a  long  time,  been  pale  and  feeble,  and  sometimes 
there  would  come  a  bright  spot  on  her  cheek,  which  made 
her  look  so  lovely,  I  thought  she  must  be  well.  But  then 
she  spoke  of  dying,  and  pressed  me  to  her  bosom,  and  told 
me  to  be  good  when  she  was  gone,  and  to  love  my  father,  and 
be  kind  to  him ;  for  he  would  have  no  one  else  to  love. 

3.  I  recollect  she  was  ill  all  day,  and  my  little  hobby- 
horse and  whip  were  laid  aside,  and  I  tried  to  be  very  quiet. 
I  did  not  see  her  for  the  whole  day,  and  it  seemed  very  long. 
At  night,  they  told  me  my  mother  was  too  sick  to  kiss  me, 
as  she  always  had  done  before  I  went  to  bed,  and  I  must  go 
without  it.     But  I  could  not.      I  stole  into  the  room,  and, 


KUMBER    FOUR.  59 

placing  my  lips  close  to  hers,  whispered  :   ''  Mother,  dear 
mother,  won't  jou  kiss  me  ?" 

4.  Her  lips  were  very  cold,  and  when  she  put  her  hand 
upon  my  cheek,  and  laid  my  head  on  her  bosom,  I  felt  a  cold 
shuddering  pass  all  through  me.  My  father  carried  me 
from  the  room  :  but  he  could  not  speak.  After  they  put  nie 
in  bed,  I  lay  a  long  while  thinking ;  I  feared  my  mother 
would,  indeed,  die ;  for  her  cheek  felt  cold,  as  my  little  sis- 
ter's did  when  she  died,  and  they  carried  her  little  body 
away  where  I  never  saw  it  again.     But  I  soon  fell  asleep. 

5.  In  the  morning  I  rushed  to  my  mother's  room,  with  a 
strange  dread  of  evil  to  come  upon  me.  It  was  just  as  I 
feared.  A  white  linen  covered  her  straight,  cold  form.  I 
removed  it  from  her  face :  her  eyes  were  closed,  and  her 
cheeks  were  hard  and  cold.  But  my  mother's  dear,  dear 
smile  was  there,  or  my  heart  would  have  broken. 

6.  In  an  instant,  all  the  little  faults,  for  which  she  had  so 
often  reproved  me,  rushed  upon  my,  mind.  I  longed  to  tell 
her  how  good  I  would  always  be,  if  she  would  but  stay  with 
me.  I  longed  to  tell  her  how,  in  all  time  to  come,  her 
words  would  be  a  law  to  me.  I  would  be  all  that  she  had 
wished  me  to  be. 

7.  I  was  a  passionate,  headstrong  boy ;  and  never  did  this 
frame  of  temper  come  upon  me,  but  I  seemed  to  see  her  mild, 
tearful  eyes  full  upon  me,  just  as  she  used  to  look  in  life  ; 
and  when  I  strove  for  the  mastery  over  my  passions,  her 
smile  seemed  to  cheer  -my  heart,  and  I  was  happy. 

8.  My  whole  character  underwent  a  change,  even  from 
the  moment  of  her  death.  Her  spirit  seemed  to  be  always 
with  me,  to  aid  the  good  and  root  out  the  evil  that  was  in 
me.  I  felt  it  would  grieve  her  gentle  spirit  to  see  me  err, 
and  I  could  not,  would  not,  do  so. 

9.  I  was   the   child   of  her  affection.     I  knew  she  had 


go  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

prayed  and,  wept  over  me ;  and  that  even  on  the  threshold  of 
the  grave,  her  anxiety  for  my  welfare  had  caused  her  spirit 
to  linger,  that  she  might  pray  once  more  for  me.  I  never 
forgot  my  mother's  last  kiss.  It  was  with  me  in  sorrow;  it 
was  with  me  in  joy ;  it  was  with  me  in  moments  of  evil,  like 
a  perpetual  good. 

Questions. — 1.  "What  was  the  age  of  the  person  represented  in  this 
piece  ?  2.  What,  wl\en  his  mother  died  ?  3.  What  did  he  say  of  himself 
when  a  child  ?  4.  Had  he  ever  grieved  his  mother  ?  5.  What  did  he  say 
of  his  faults,  after  his  mother's  death  ?  6.  What  did  he  desire  to  tell  her  ? 
7.  How  ought  you  to  treat  your  mother,  in  order  to  avoid  the  reproaches  of 
your  own  conscience  ? 


LESSON   VI. 

Sue  pri$e',  amazement.  .  J  Loi'  ter,  linger ;  tarry. 

Per'  ish  ed,  died.  )  Stag'  ger  ed,  reeled  to  and  fro. 

Stint'  ed,  small  of  size.  {  Ford'  ed,  waded. 

Stern,  severe ;  harsh ;  rigid.  >  Es  cap'  ed,  fled  from. 

THE    DEAD    CHILD'S    FORO. 

Mrs.  E.  Oakis  Smith. 

1.  "  Dear  mother,  here's  the  very  place 

Where  little  John  was  found, 
The  water  covering  up  his  face, 

His  feet  upon  the  ground.' 
Now  won't  you  tell  me  all  about 

The  death  of  little  John'? 
And  how  the  woman  sent  him  out 

Long  after  sun  was  down'  ? 
And  tell  me  all  about  the  wrong ^ 
And  that  will  make  the  story  long," 


NUMBER    FOUR. 

2.  I  took  the  child  upon  mj  knee, 

Beside  the  lake  so  clear ; 
Por  there  the  tale  of  misery 

Young  Edward  begged  to  hear. 
He  looked  into  mj  very  eyes, 

With  sad  and  earnest  face. 
And  caught  his  breath  with  wild  surprise, 

And  turned  to  mark  the  place 
Where  perished,  years  agone,  the  child 
Alone,  beneath  the  waters  wild. 

3.  "A  weakly  orphan  boy  was  John, 

A  barefoot,  stinted  child, 
Whose  work-day  task  was  never  done, 

Who  wept  when  others  smiled. 
Around  his  home  the  trees  were  high, 

Down  to  the  water's  brink, 
And  almost  hid  the  pleasant  sky, 
Where  wild  deer  came  to  drink.'' 
(")   "And  did  they  come,  the  pretty  deer'? 
And  did  they  drink  the  water  here'  ?" 

4.  Cried  Edward,  with  a  wondering  eye: 

"  Now,  mother,  tell  to  me. 
Was  John  about  as  lar^e  as  I'  ?      '^ 

Pray  tell,  how  big  was  he'?" 
"  He  was  an  older  boy  than  t/oUj 

And  stouter  every  way ; 
For,  water  from  the  well  he  drew, 

And  hard  he  worked  all  day. 
But  then  poor  John  was  sharp  and  thin. 
With  sun-burnt  hair  and  sun-burnt  skin. 


61 


62  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

5.  "^'His  mother  used  to  spin  and  weave; 

From  farm  to  farm  she  went ; 
And,  though  it  made  her  much  to  grieve, 

She  John  to  service  sent. 
He  lived  with  one,  a  woman  stern, 

Of  hard  and  cruel  ways  ; 
And  he  must  bring  her  wood  to  burn, 

From  forest  and  highways  ; 
And  then,  at  night,  on  cold,  hard  bed, 
He  laid  his  little,  aching  head. 

6.  "  The  weary  boy  had  toiled  all  day 

With  heavy  spade  and  hoe  ; 
His  mistress  met  him  on  the  way, 

And  bade  him  quickly  go 
And  bring  her  home  some  sticks  of  wood, 

For  she  would  bake  and  brew  ; 
When  he  returned,  she'd  give  him  food ; 

For  she  had  much  to  do. 
And  then  she  charged  him  not  to  stay, 
Nor  loiter  long  upon  the  way. 

7.  "He  went;  but  scarce  his  toil-worn  feet 
Could  crawl  along  the  wood, 

He  was  so  spent  with  work  and  heat, 

And  faint  for  lack  of  food. 
He  bent  his  aching,  little  back 

To  bear  the  weight  along. 
And  staggered  then  upon  the  track; 

For  John  was  never  strong. 
His  eyesight,  too,  began  to  fail, 
And  he  grew  giddy,  faint,  and  pale. 


NUMBER    FOUR. 

8.  "  The  load  was  small,  quite  small,  'tis  true, 

But  John  could  bring  no  more ; 
The  woman  in  a  rage  it  threw, — 

She  stamped  upon  the  floor. 
(/.  )  *  No  supper  you  shall  have  to-night ; 

So  go  along  to  bed, 
You  good-for-nothing,  ugly  fright, 

You  little  stupid-head  !'  " 
Said  Edward  :   "  /  would  never  go  ; 
She  wouldn't  dare  to  serve  me  so!" 


9.   "  The  moon-beams  fell  upon  the  child 

As,  weeping,  there  he  lay ; 
And  gusty  winds  were  sweeping  wild 

Along  the  forest  way. 
When  up  rose  John,  at  dead  of  night; 

For  he  would  see  his  mother ; 
She  loved  her  child,  although  he  might 

Be  nothing  to  another. 
That  narrow  creek  he  forded  o'er, — 
'Tis  nearer  than  around  the  shore. 


10.  "  But  here  the  shore  is  rough,  you  see; 

The  bank  is  high  and  steep  ; 
And  John,  who  climbed  on  hands  and  knee, 

His  footing  could  not  keep. 
He  backward  fell,  all,  all  alone ; 

Too  weak  was  he  to  rise ; 
(/>Z.)  And  no  one  heard  his  dying  moan, 

Or  closed  his  dying  eyes. 
How  still  he  slept !     And  grief  and  pain 
Could  never  come  to  him  again. 


63 


64  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

11.  "A  stranger,  passing  on  his  way, 

Found  him,  as  you  have  said ; 
His  feet  were  out  upon  the  clay, 

The  water  o'er  his  head. 
And  then  his  foot-prints  showed  the  path 

He  took,  adown  the  creek, 
When  he  escaped  the  woman's  wrath, 

So  hungry,  faint,  and  weak. 
And  people  now,  as  you  have,  heard. 
Do  call  the  place.  The  Dead  Child's  Ford." 

Questions.— 1.  Was  John  an  orphan,  or  half  orphan?  2.  Wa;  he 
drowned  at  night,  or  in  the  daytime  ?  3.  By  whom  was  he  found  ?  4. 
"What  is  the  place  called  where  he  was  drowned  ?  5.  Give  the  rule  for  the 
rising  inflections,  as  marked  in  the  1st,  2d,  and  4th  verses.  6.  Why  are 
there  no  quotation  marks  at  the  beginning  of  the  2d  verse  ?  *J.  Why  are 
half  quotations  used  in  the  3d  and  8th  verses  ?  8.  How  should  a  part  of 
the  8th  and  10th  verses  be  read,  according  to  the  notation  marks?  See 
page  41. 


LESSOE   VII. 

Ex  claim'  ED,  cried  out.  J  Breach,  violation. 

De  mand'  ing,  asking ;  requiring.  ^  Yis'  ion,  sight ;  view. 

A  Miss',  wrong ;  improperly.  $  De  scrip'  tion,  account. 

Ac  cu$'  ED,  charged  with.  >  Slug'  card,  lazy  person. 

IxAME    AND    JCAZY.—  A  fable.* 

1.  Two  beggars.  Lame  and  Lazy,  were  in  want  of  bread. 
One  leaned  on  his  crutch,  the  other  reclined  on  his  couch. 
Lame  called  on  Charity,  and  humbly  asked  for  a  cracker. 
Instead  of  a  cracker,  he  received  a  loaf. 

2.  Lazy,  seeing  the  gift  of  Charity,  exclaimed  :   "  What' ! 

*  For  an  explanation  of  the  term  fable,  see  page  236 


NUMBER    FOUR.  (55 

ask  a  cracker  and  receive  a  loaf  ?  Well,  I  will  ask  a  loaf." 
Lazy  now  applied  to  Charity,  and  called  for  a  loaf  of  bread. 
*'  Your  demanding  a  loaf,"  said  Charity,  "  proves  you  a 
haf-er.  You  are  of  that  class  and  character  who  ask  and 
receive  not ;  because  you  ask  amiss." 

3.  Lazy,  who  always  found  fault,  and  had  rather  whine 
than  work,  complained  of  ill-treatment,  and  even  accused 
Cl^arity  of  a  breach  of  an  exceeding  great  and  precious 
promise  :   ''  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive." 

4.  Charity  pointed  him  to  a  painting  in  her  room,  which 
presented  to  his  vision  three  personages.  Faith,  Hope,  and 
Charity.  Charity  appeared  larger  and  fairer  than  her  sis- 
ters. He  noticed  that  her  right  hand  held  a  pot  of  honey, 
which  fed  a  bee  disabled,  having  lost  its  wings.  Her  left 
hand  was  armed  with  a  whip  to  keep  off  the  drones. 

5.  "  I  do  not  understand  it,"  said  Lazy.  Charity  re- 
plied :  "It  means  that  Charity  feeds  the  lame,  and  Jlo^s 
the  lazy."  Lazy  turned  to  go.  "  Stop,"  said  Charity, 
"instead  of  com,  I  will  give  you  counsel.  Do  not  go  and 
live  on  your  poor  mother;  I  will  send  you  to  a  rich  antP 

6.  '•'•Rich  aunt' ?^^  echoed  Lazy.  "Where  shall  I  find 
her^  ?"  "  You  will  find  a  description  of  her,"  replied 
Charity,  "in  Proverbs,  sixth  chapter,  sixth,  seventh,  and 
eighth  verses,  which  read  as  follows  :  ^  Go  to  the  ant,  thou 
sluggard ;  consider  her  ways,  and  be  wise  ;  which,  having 
no  guide,  overseer,  or  ruler,  provideth  her  meat  in  summer, 
and  gathereth  her  food  in  the  harvest.'  " 

7.  Moral.  Instead  of  waiting  and  wishing  for  a  rich 
UNCLE  to  die,  go  and  see  how  a  rich  ant  lives. 

Questions. — 1.  "Where  is  the  quotation  in  the  3d  paragraph  to  be  found? 
Answer.  John,  16th  chapter,  24th  verse.  2.  Where,  the  quotation  in  the 
6th  paragraph  ?  3.  WTiy  does  it  commence  with  a  half  quotation  ?  Answer. 
Because  it  denotes  a  quotation  within  a  quotation. 


(Jg  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES, 


LESSON   VIII. 

BU-UGh'  ty,  proud ;  disdainful.  S  De  clin'  ing,  failing. 

Par  tic'  u  lar  ly,   especially.  c  Pre  vent'  ed,  hindered. 

Trans  act',  do ;  perform.  ;  Ap  pro  ba'  tion,  approval 

A  bash'  ed,  confused.  S  Pre'  cepts,  instructions ;  counsels. 

Dis  cov'  ER,  find  out.  i  Ben  e  fac'  tor,  friend ;   one  th£  t 

Ex  am'  ine  {egz  dm'  in),  look  over ;  ^      benefits. 

inspect.  S  A  mass'  ed,  gathered. 

Rec'  ti  FY,  correct ;  make  right.  (  A  dapt'  ed,  suited. 

Reg'  om  pense,  reward.  ;  Con  fi  den'  tial,  trusty ;  trusted 

De  !)erve$',  merits.  )  In  teg'  ri  ty,  honesty. 

FAITHFULNESS    XM    LITTLE    THINGS. 

Eliza.  A.  Chasb. 

1.  ''Is  Mr.  Harris  in'?"  inquired  a  plainly,  but  neatly 
dressed  boy,  twelve  or  thirteen  years  of  age,  of  a  clerk,  as 
be  stood  by  the  counter  of  a  large  bookstore. 

The  clerk  regarded  the  boy  with  a  haughty  look,  and 
answered :   "  Mr.  Harris  is  in ;  but  he  is  engaged." 

2.  The  boy  looked  at  the  clerk  hesitatingly,  and  then 
said :  "  If  he  is  not  particularly  engaged,  I  would  like  to 
see  him." 

"  If  you  have  any  business  to  transact,  /can  attead  to 
it,"  replied  the  clerk.  "  Mr.  Harris  can  not  be  troubled 
with  boys  like  you." 

3.  "What  is  this,  Mr.  Morley?"  said  a  pleasant-look- 
ing man,  stepping  up  to  the  clerk;  "what  does  the  boy 
want?" 

"  He  insisted  on  seeing  you,  though  I  told  him  you  were 
engaged,"  returned  the  clerk,  a  little  abashed  by  the  manner 
of  bis  employer. 

4.  "  And  what  do  you  wish  to  see  me  about,  my  lad?^* 
inquired  Mr.  Harris,  kindly. 

The  boy  raised  his  eyes,  and,  meeting  the  scornful  glance 


NUMBER    FOUR, 


G7 


of  the  clerk,  said  timidly :  "I  wish  you  to  look  at  the  bill 
of  some  books  which  I  bought  here,  about  three  months 
since.     There  is  a  mistake  in  it,  which  I  wish  to  correct." 

5.  "Ah,  my  boy,  I  see,"  replied  Mr.  Harris  ;  "  you  have 
overpaid  us,  I  suppose  !" 

''  No,  sir,"  answered  the  boy.  "  On  the  contrary,  I 
purchased  some  books  which  are  not  charged  in  the  bill,  and 
I  have  called  to  pay  for  them'." 

6.  Mr.  Harris  looked  at  the  boy  earnestly  for  a  moment, 
and  then  asked  :   "  When  did  you  discover  this  mistake  ?" 

*' Not  until  I  reached  home,"  replied  the  lad.  ^'When 
I  paid  for  the  books  I  was  in  a  great  hurry,  fearing  the  boat 
would  leave  before  I  could  reach  it,  and  I  did  not  examine 
the  bill." 

T^  "Why  did  you  not  return  before,  and  rectify  the  mis- 
take ?"  asked  the  gentleman,  in  a  tone  slightly  altered. 

"  Because,  sir,  I  live  some  distance  from  the  city,  and 
have  not  been  able  to  return  till  now." 

8.  "  My  dear  boy,"  said  Mr.  Harris,  "you  have  given 
me  great  pleasure.  In  a  long  life  of  mercantile  business,  I 
have  never  met  with  an  instance  of  this  kind  before.  You 
have  acted  nobly  and  deserve  a  recompense." 

"  I  ask  no  recompense,"  returned  the  boy.  "  /  have 
done  nothing  bid  my  duty — a  simple  act  of  justice,  and  that 
deserves  no  reward,  but  itself." 

9.  "May  I  ask  who  taught  you  such  noble  principles'?' 
inquired  Mr.  Harris. 

"  My  mother,'  '  answered  the  boy,  bursting  into  tears. 

10.  "  Blessed  is  the  child  who  has  such  a  mother,"  said 
Mr.  Harris,  "  and  blessed  is  the  mother  of  such  a  child.  Be 
faithful  to  her  teachings,  my  dear  boy,  and  you  will  be  the 
staff  of  her  declining  years." 

*'  Alas,  sir,"  said  the  boy,  "  my  mother  is  dead  !     It  was 


53  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

her  sickness  and  death  which  prevented  me  from  coming 
here  before."^ 

11.  What  is  your  name?''  inquired  Mr.  Harris. 
*' Edward  Delong." 

"  Have  you  a  father  living'  ?" 

*'  No,  sir.     Mj  father  died  when  I  was  an  infant." 

12.  ''  Where  do  you  reside  ?" 

'*  In  the  town  of  Linwood,  about  fifty  miles  from  this 
city." 

"  Well,  my  boy,  what  are  the  books  which  were  forgotten  ?'' 
*'  Tacitus  and  a  Latin  Dictionary." 

13.  "  Let  me  see  the  bill.  Ha!  signed  by  A.  C.  Mor- 
ley.  I  will  see  to  that.  Here,  Mr.  Morley  !"  called  Mr.' 
Harris ;  but  the  clerk  was  busily  engaged  in  waiting  on  a 
customer  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  store,  bowing, and 
smiling  in  the  most  attentive  manner. 

14.  '•  Edward,"  continued  Mr.  Harris,  ''  I  am  not  going 
to  reivard  you  for  what  you  have  done  ;  but  I  wish  to  man- 
ifest my  approbation  of  your  conduct  in  such  a  manner,  as 
to  make  you  remember  the  wise  and  excellent  precepts  of 
your  departed  mother.  Select  from  my  store  any  ten  books 
you  choose,  which,  in  addition  to  the  two  you  had  before, 
shall  be  a  present  to  you ;  and  henceforth,  as  now,  my  boy, 
remember  and  not  '  despise  the  day  of  small  things.'  If 
ever  you  need  a  friend,  call  on  me,  and  I  will  assist  you." 

15.  The  grateful  boy  thanked  his  kind  benefactor,  and, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  bowed  and  left  the  store. 

Edward  Belong  wished  for  knowledge,  and,  though  the 
scanty  means  left  him  by  his  mother,  could  hardly  satisfy 
his  desire,  by  diligence  and  economy  he  had  advanced  far 
beyond  most  boys  of  his  age.  By  working  nights  and  morn- 
ings for  a  neighbor,  he  had  amassed,  what  seemed  to  him,  a 
large  sum  of  money,  and  this  was  expended  in  books. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  gg 

16.  Edward's  home  was  now  with  a  man  who  regarded 
money  as  the  chief  end  and  aim  of  life,  and  severe  and 
constant  physical  labor  as  the  only  means  of  obtaining  that 
end.  For  two  years  Edward  struggled  with  his  hopeless 
condition,  toiling  early  and  late  to  obtain  a  livelihood. 

17.  Edward  now  resolved  to  go  to  the  city,  to  seek  some 
employment,  better  adapted  to  promote  his  education.  He 
entered  the  same  store  where  he  purchased  the  books,  and 
inquired  for  Mr.  Harris. 

"  He  is  engaged."  replied  the  polite  clerk.  "  If  you  will 
wait  a  moment,  he  will  be  at  liberty." 

18.  "  Did  you  wish  to  see  me  ?"  asked  Mr.  Harris  of  the 
boy,  whose  thoughts  were  so  intense  that  he  had  not  noticed 
the  approach  of  his  friend. 

"Mr.  Harris!"  exclaimed  Edward,  and  it  was  all  he  could 
say.  For  the  remembrance  of  past  favors  bestowed  on  him 
by  his  kind  benefactor,  so  filled  his  heart  with  gratitude, 
that  further  utterance  was  denied. 

''  My  noble  Edward  !"  said  the  old  gentleman.  ^' And  so 
you  needed  a  friend.     Well,  you  shall  have  one." 

19.  Five  years  from  that  time,  Edward  Belong  was  the 
confidential  clerk  of  Mr.  Harris,  and,  in  three  more,  a  part- 
ner in  the  firm.  The  integrity  of  purpose,  which  first  won 
the  regard  of  his  benefactor,  was  his  guide  in  after  life. 
Prosperity  crowned  his  efibrts,  and  happiness  blessed  his 
heart, — the  never-failing  result  of  faithfulness  in  little 
things. 

Questions.— -1.  Why  did  Edward  Belong  wish  to  see  Mr.  Harris  ?  2. 
Had  he  overpaid  for  the  books  he  purchased  ?  3.  What  did  he  say  when 
Mr.  Harris  told  him  he  deserved  a  recompense  ?  4.  What  books  were  not 
charged  in  the  bill  ?  5.  In  what  way  did  Mr.  Harris  manifest  his  approval 
of  Edward's  conduct?  6.  How  long  after  this,  before  he  again  called  on 
Mr.  Harris?  7.  Why  could  he  not,  at  first,  talk  with  Mr.  Harris?  8. 
What  did  Edward  finally  become  ? 


70  SANDERS'    UNIOS    SERIES. 


LESSON   IX. 

Grace'  ful  ly,  beautifully.  5  Can'  non  ry,  discharge  of  cannon. 

Proud'  lt,  splendidly.  j  Ju'  bi  lee,  season  of  public  joy. 

For'  eign  {for'  en),  distant.  I  Wit'  ness  ed,  seen ;  beheld. 

Clime$,  countries;  regions.  S  Na'  tive,  birth-giving. 

Sym'  bol,  sign;  emblem.  i  Boon,  gift;  blessing. 

Fear'  ful,  dreadful ;  terrible.  I  Par'  a  dise,  blissful  abode. 

THE   AMERICAN    BOY* 

SON. 

Father,  look  up,  and  see  that  flag  I 

How  gracefully  it  flies  ! 
Those  pretty  stripes,  they  seem  to  be 

A  rainbow  in  the  skies. 

FATHER. 

It  is  your  country's  flag,  my  boy, 
And  proudly  drinks  the  light, 

O'er  ocean's  wave,  in  foreign  climes, 
A  symbol  of  our  might. 

SON. 
Father,  what  fearful  noise  is  that, 

Now  thundering  in  the  clouds  ? 
Why  do  they  wave  their  hats, 

And  rush  along  in  crowds  ? 

FATHER. 

It  IS  the  voice  of  cannonry, 

The  glad  shouts  of  the  free  ; 
This  is  a  day  of  memory, 

'Tis  FreedOxM's  jubilee  ! 


NUMBER    FOUR.  trn 

SON. 

I  wish  that  /was  now  a  man, 

Id  free  my  country  too, 
And  cheer  as  loudly  as  the  rest ; 

But,  father,  whj  don't  you? 

FATHER. 

I'm  getting  old  and  weak  ;  but  still 

Mj  heart  is  big  with  joy  ; 
I've  witnessed  many  a  day  like  this. 

Shout  you  aloud,  my  boy  ! 

SON. 

(°°)    Hurrah,  for  Freedom's  jubilee, 
God  bless  our  native  land  ! 
And  may  /  live  to  hold  the  boon 
Of  freedom  in  my  hand. 

FATHER. 

Well  done,  my  boy,  grow  up,  and  love 
The  land  that  gave  you  birth, — 

A  land  where  Freedom  loves  to  dwell, — 
A  paradise  on  earth. 

Questions.— 1.  Of  what  is  our  flag  a  sTmbol?  2.  What  is  meant  by 
Freedom's  jubilee  f  3.  What  is  the  use  of  the  apostrophes  in  the  words  Id, 
Tm,  Tve,  &o. 

LESSON   X. 

BiL'  Low$,  waves;  surges.  |  Sweep,  pass  or  drive  over. 

De  light',  joy  ;  pleasure.  Rife,  filled  ;  abounding. 

L»ooM,  fate;  end.  Yoy'  ^ge,  passage :  journey. 

TwiNK' LE$,  sparkles.  An' CHOR  ed,  moored ;  fixed.      ^ 

Glare,  bright,  dazzling  light.  Ha'  ven,  harbor. 

Ex  panse/,  surface ,  extent.  Peace'  pul  ly,  quietly ;  calmly. 


«72  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

THE    SAILOR    BOY'S    SONG* 

WEITTEN   BY  A  GIBL  THIRTEEN   YEAK8  OF  AGE.  , 

1.  (")  Ob !  the  sea,  the  sea 
Is  the  place  for  me, 

With  its  billows  blue  and  bright ; 
I  love  its  roar, 
As  it  breaks  on  the  shore, 

And  its  danger  to  me  is  delight 

2.  Oh  !  I  love  the  wave. 
And  the  sailor  brave, 

Who  often  meets  his  doom 

On  the  ocean  vast. 

And  sleeps  his  last 
In  a  shell  and  coral  tomb. 

8.  And,  in  the  night, 
The  moon's  soft  light 

Smiles  sweetly  on  the  foamy  billow ; 
And  many  a  star, 
As  it  twinkles  afar, 

Seems  to  rise  from  a  watery  pillow. 

4.  In  the  noontide  glare. 

Oh  !  bright  and  fair 
Is  the  wide  expanse  of  ocean ; 
%^»  ^  In  the  morn's  first  light 

'Tis  a  glorious  sight, 
So  full  of  life  and  motion. 


5.  When  the  tempests  sweep 
The  rolling  deep. 


^ 


NUMBER    FOUR.  73 

And  the  angry  billows  swell, 

I  mind  not  the  strife, 

Which  to  me  is  rife 
With  thoughts  that  I  can  not  tell. 

6.  When  life's  voyage  is  o'er, 

And  I  sail  no  more 
On  the  ocean's  troubled  breast. 

Safe  anchored  above, 

In  the  haven  of  love. 
May  the  sailor  boy  peacefully  rest ! 

Questions. — 1.  What  is  meant  by  cored  tomb,  2d  yerse  ?  2.  "Whati  by 
watery  pillow,  third  verse. 

LESSON   XI. 

FOUN  da'  tion,  commencement.  J  En  deav'  or  ed,  tried ;  attempted. 

Do  MES'  Ti  CA  TED,  tamed.  Anx'  ious,  very  desirous. 

Fa'  vor  ite,  one  specially  favored,     f  In  ter  cept',  (inter,  heiween;  cept, 
Ca  ress'  ED,  fondled ;  petted.  \      to  take  or  seize  ;)  to  stop  on  the  way. 

Gam'  bol  ing,   skipping ;  frolicking.   \  Be  tray'  ed,  showed ;  disclosed. 
Im'  pulse,  feeling  of  excitement.        1  Re  strain'  ed,  held  back ;  checked. 
Di  lat'  ed,  distended.  \  Cow'  ed,  depressed  with  fear. 

Spec  ta'  tor$,  observers ;  lookers  on.  )  En  grav'  eb,  cut ;  inscribed. 
In  this  lesson  every  pause  is  marked  with  its  appropriate  inflection. 

CHASE    OF    THE    PET    FAWN* 

Miss   COOPBIU 

1.  Within  twenty  years  from  the  foundation  of  our  vil- 
lage',* the  deer  had  already  become  scarce',  and',  in  a  brief 
period  later',  they  had  almost  entirely  fled  from  the  country\ 
One  of  the  last  of  these  beautiful  creatures',  a  pretty  little 

^  Cooperstown,  New  York. 
4U  4 


/ 


74  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

fawn',  had  been  brought  in  from  the  woods',  when  it  was 
very  young',  and  had  been  nursed  and  petted  by  a  young 
lady  in  the  village',  until  it  became  completely  domesticated\ 

2.  It  was  graceful',  as  those  little  creatures  always  are', 
and  so  gentle  and  playful  that  it  became  a  great  favorite\ 
Following  the  different  members  of  the  family  about',  it  was 
caressed  and  welcomed  everywhere\  One  morning',  after 
gamboling  about  as  usual',  until  weary',  it  threw  itself 
down  in  the  sunshine',  at  the  feet  of  one  of  its  friends',  upon 
the  door-step  of  a  store\ 

3.  There  came  along  a  countryman',  who',  for  several 
years',  had  been  a  hunter  by  pursuit',  and  who  still  kept 
several  hounds\  one  of  which  came  to  the  village  with  him', 
on  this  occasion\  The  dog',  as  it  approached  the  place 
-where  the  fawn  lay',  suddenly  stopped^ ;  the  little  animal 
saw  him',  and  darted  to  its  feet\ 

4.  It  had  lived  more  than  half  its  life  among  the  vil- 
lagers', and  had  apparently  lost  all  fear  of  them^ ;  but  it 
now  seemed  to  know  instinctively  that  an  enemy  was  at  hand\ 
In  an  instant',  its  whole  character  and  appearance  seemed 
changed^;  all  its  past  habits  were  forgotten^;  every  wild 
impulse  was  awake^ ;  its  head  erect',  its  nostrils  dilated',  its 
eyes  flashing\ 

5.  In  another  instant',  before  the  spectators  had  thought 
of  the  danger',  and  before  its  friends  could  secure  it',  the 
fawn  was  leaping  wildly  through  the  street',  and  the  hound 
in  full  chase\  The  by-standers  were  eager  to  save  it^ ;  sev- 
eral persons  instantly  followed  its  track';  the  friends  who 
had  long  fed  and  fondled  it',  were  calling  the  name  it  had 
hitherto  known^ ;  but',  in  vain\ 

6.  The  hunter  endeavored  to  call  back  his  dog^ ;  but',  with 
no  better  success\  In  half  a  minute',  the  fawn  had  turned 
the  first  corner',  dashed  onward  toward  the  lake',  and  thrown 


NUMBER    FOUR 


75 


itself  into  the  water\  But',  if,  for  a  moment',  the  startled 
creature  believed  itself  safe  in  the  lake',  it  was  soon  unde- 
ceived^; for  the  hound  followed  in  hot  and  eager  chase', 
while  a  dozen  village  dogs  joined  in  the  pursuit\ 

7.  A  large  crowd  collected  on  the  bank' — men',  women', 
and  children', — anxious  for  the  fate  of  the  little  animaP. 
Some  threw  themselves  into  boats',  hoping  to  intercept  the 
liound  before  he  reached  his  prey\  But  the  splashing  of 
the  oars',  the  voices  of  men  and  boys',  and  the  barking  of 
the  dogs',  must  have  filled  the  beating  heart  of  the  poor 
fawn  with  terror  and  anguish^ ;  as  if  every  creature  on  the 
spot  where  it  had  once  been  caressed  and  fondled',  had  sud- 
denly turned  into  a  deadly  foe\ 

8.  It  was  soon  seen  that  the  fawn  was  directing  its  course 
across  a  bay',  toward  the  nearest  borders  of  the  forest\ 
Immediately  the  owner  of  the  hound  crossed  the  bridge',  ran 
at  full  speed  in  the  same  direction,  hoping  to  stop  his  dog 
as  he  landed\  On  swam  the  fawn',  as  it  had  never  swam 
before^ ;  its  delicate  head  scarcely  seen  above  the  water',  but 
leaving  a  disturbed  track  which  betrayed  its  course  alike  to 
anxious  friends  and  fierce  enemies\ 

9.  As  it  approached  the  land',  the  interest  became  intense\ 
The  hunter  was  already  on  the  same  side  of  the  lake',  calling 
loudly  and  angrily  to  his  dog^ ;  but  the  animal  seemed  to 
have  quite  forgotten  his  master's  voice  in  the  pitiless  pur- 
suit\  The  fawn  touched  the  land^ ;  in  one  leap',  it  had 
crossed  the  narrow  piece  of  beach',  and',  in  another  instant', 
it  would  reach  the  cover  of  the  woods\ 

10.  The  hound  followed  true  to  the  scent',  aiming  at  the 
same  spot  on  the  shore\  His  master',  anxious  to  meet  him', 
had  run  at  full  speed',  and  was  now  coming  up  at  the  same 
critical  moment\  Would  the  dog  listen  to  his  voice'  ?  Could 
the  hunter  reach  him  in  time  to  seize  and  control  him'  ?     A 


76  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES, 

shout  from  the  spectators  proclaimed  that  the  fawn  had 
passed  out  of  sight  into  the  forest\  At  the  same  instant', 
the  hound',  as  he  touched  the  land',  felt  the  hunter  s  strong 
arm  clutching  his  neck\ 

11.  The  worst  was  believed  to  be  over^ ;  the  fawn  was 
leaping  up  the  mountain-side',  and  its  enemy  restrained\ 
The  other  dogs',  seeing  their  leader  cowed',  were  easily  man- 
aged\  A  number  of  men  and  boys  dispersed  themselves 
through  the  wood  in  search  of  the  little  creature^ ;  but',  with- 
out success\  They  all  returned  to  the  village',  reporting 
that  the  animal  had  not  been  seen  by  them\  Some  persons 
thought  that',  after  its  fright  had  passed  over',  it  would 
return  of  its  own  accord\ 

12.  It  wore  a  pretty  collar  with  its  owner's  name  engraved 
upon  it',  so  that  it  could  be  easily  known  from  any  other 
fawn',  that  might  be  straying  about  the  woods\  Before  many 
hours  had  passed',  a  hunter  presented  himself  before  the 
lady',  whose  pet  the  little  creature  had  been',  and  showed  a 
collar  with  her  name  upon  it\  He  said  that  he  was  out 
hunting  in  the  morning',  and  saw  a  fawn  in  the  distance\ 
The  little  creature',  instead  of  bounding  away  as  he  expected', 
moved  toward  him\  He  took  aim',  fired',  and  shot  it  to  the 
heart\ 

13.  When  he  found  the  collar  about  its  neck',  he  was 
very  sorry  he  had  killed  it\  One  would  have  thought  that 
that  terrible  chase  would  have  made  it  afraid  of  man^ ;  but 
no^ ;  it  forgot  the  evil\  and  remembered  the  kindness  only" ; 
and  came  to  meet',  as  a  friend',  the  hunter  who  shot  it\  It 
was  long  mourned  by  its  best  friend\ 

Questions. — 1.  Where  did  the  lady  reside  who  kept  this  pet  fawn  ?  2. 

Is  there  a  lake  near  that  village  ?    3.  "What  river  rises  in  that  lake  ?  4. 

Describe  the  chase  of  the  pet  fawn.  5.  How  came  it  to  be  shot  ?  6. 
"What  did  it  forget,  and  what  remember  ? 


NUMBER    FOUR.  77 


LESSON   XII. 

In'  flu  ence,  moral  power.  j  Tim'  id,  fearful ;  timorous. 
Droop'  ed,  bent  over ;  languished.  Re  strain'  ed,  held  back. 
Ting'  ed,  stained ;  colored.  At  test',  bear  witness. 

Del'  I  gate,  soft ;  tender.  \  Sua'  sion,  act  of  persuading 
Trib'  ute,  pay ;  requital.  Com  pli'  ance,  submission. 

Case'  ment,  window.  >  Pal'  ed,  inclosed. 

Terch'  ed,  alighted.  j  De  bas'  ed,  degraded. 

Plaint'  ive,  sorrowful.  j  De'  vi  ate,  wander ;  stray. 

Af  fright'  ed,  alarmed.  <  Le'  ni  ent,  mild ;  merciful. 


KINDNESS. 

Kate  Clarence. 

1.  Not  man  alone,  but  every  thing  in  nature,  owns  its 
influence.  I  knew  a  little  flower  that  sprang  up  amidst  the 
weeds  and  brambles  of  a  long-neglected  garden ;  but  soon 
drooped  its  slender  stem,  and  its  leaves  grew  tinged  from 
the  waste  around. 

2.  I  took  it  to  my  home,  supported  its  drooping  stem,  and 
placed  it  where  the  warm  sunshine  and  refreshing  showers 
cheered  its  little  life.  Again  it  raised  its  beautiful  head, 
and  its  delicate  buds  burst  forth  in  gladness ;  and  when  the 
winds  of  autumn  came,  the  dying  flower  gave  up  to  me  its 
golden  seeds — a  thankful  tribute  for  my  love.  'Twas  a 
little  thing,  but  kindness  did  the  deed. 

3.  There  came  to  my  casement,  one  winter's  morning,  a 
shivering,  starving  bird,  and  perched  itself  there,  striving  to 
tell  its  tale  of  suffering  ;  but  feeble  were  its  plaintive  notes, 
and  its  glossy  breast  was  ruflled  in  the  blast.  I  raised  the 
^vindow.  Affrighted,  the  little  wanderer  spread  its  wings, 
as  if  to  soar  away ;  but,  weak  and  faint,  it  sank  fluttering  in 
my  outstretched  hands.  I  drew  it  in.  Alarmed,  it  darted 
round  and  round  the  room,  and  beat  against  the  frosted 


78  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

pane.      O  Cruelty  !  thou  hast  taught  even  the  little  birds 
to  doubt ! 

4.  When  the  little  stranger  grew  less  timid,  I  gave  it 
clear  wat6r,  and  tempting  food,  and  so,  for  many  weeks,  we 
dwelt  together ;  but  when  came  the  first  warm,  sunny 
day,  I  opened  my  doors,  and  it  flew  away, — away  up^ 
up  into  the  dark-blue  heavens,  till  it  was  lost  to  my 
eager  gaze. 

5.  But  not  an  hour  had  passed,  ere  I  heard  the  flutter  of 
its  tiny  wings,  and  saw,  without,  its  little  breast  glittering 
in  the  golden  sunbeams.  It  had  a  joyous  life.  No  wired 
cage  restrained  its  restless  wing;  but,  free  as  the  summer 
cloud,  would  it  come  each  day,  and  gladly  would  my  de- 
lighted soul  drink  in  the  silvery  notes  of  its  gladdening 
melody. 

6.  And  it  is  not  birds  and  flowers  alone,  that,  treated 
with  kindness,  flourish  so  brightly  'neath  its  heaven-born 
rays.  Individuals ,  families^  natiotis^  attest  its  truth. 
Legal  suasion  may  frighten  to  compliance,  but  moral 
suasion  rules  the  will. 

7.  To  the  erring  wanderer,  in  the  by  and  forbidden  paths 
of  sin,  with  a  heart  paled  in  darkness,  and  lost  to  every 
better  feeling  of  his  nature,  one  little  word,  one  little  act  of 
kindness,  however  slight,  will  find  a  sunny  resting-place  in 
that  sinful  shade,  and  prove  a  light  to  guide  the  wayward 
one  to  holier  and  better  deeds.  The  lion  licked  the  hand 
that  drew  the  thorn  from  his  wounded  foot ;  and  Powhatan 
stayed  the  descending  club,  when  the  burning  lips  of  the 
Indian  girl  pressed  the  prisoner's*  pallid  brow. 

8.  And  it  is  ever  thus.  There  beats  not  a  heart,  how- 
ever debased  by  sin,  or  darkened  by  sorrow,  that  has  not  its 


*  Captain  Smith. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  fj^g 

noblest  impulses  aroused,  in  view  of  a  generous  and  kindly 
action.  The  Holy  Father  implanted  His  own  pure  prin- 
ciples in  the  breast  of  every  one^  and  widely  do  we  deviate 
from  their  just  dictates,  when  an  unkind  word,  or  an  unkind 
act,  wounds  a  broken  heart,  or  crushes  a  loving,  gentle 
nature. 

9.  ^^  Speak  not  harshly^ — much  of  care 
Every  human  heart  must  bear ; 
Enough  of  shadows  rudely  play 
Around  the  very  sunniest  way ; 
Enough  of  sorrows  darkly  lie 
Vailed  within  the  merriest  eye. 
By  thy  childhood's  gushing  tears, 
By  thy  grief  in  after  years, 
By  the  anguish  thou  dost  know, 
Add  not  to  another'' s  woe, 

10.   "  Speak  not  harshly^ — much  of  sin 
Dwelleth  every  heart  within ; 
In  its  closely  caverned  cells, 
Many  a  wayward  passion  dwells. 
By  the  many  hours  misspent, 
By  the  gifts  to  error  lent, 
By  the  wrongs  thou  didst  not  shun, 
By  the  good  thou  hast  not  done, 
With  a  lenient  spirit  scan 
The  weakness  of  thy  brother  man.'* 

Questions.— 1.  On  what  has  kindness  an  influence  ?  2.  What  influence 
had  it  upon  the  little  flower  ?  3.  What,  upon  the  little  bird  ?  4.  What  is 
said  of  cruelty?  5.  What  is  said  of  legal  and  moral  suasion?  .  6.  What  is 
said  of  the  lion  ?  T.  Of  Powhatan  ?  8.  Why  ought  we  not  to  speak 
harshly  ? 


80  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 


LESSON   XIII. 

Shaft,  arrow ;  here,  careless  word.  \  Wring,  writhe. 

Mes'  sen  ger$,  message-bearers.  )  Un  a  ware$,  unconsciously. 

Pang,  distress;  anguish.  Min'' GLE$', unites;  mixes. 

Spell$,  charms ;  enchantments.  En  dear'  ing,  kind ;  afl'ectionata. 

Seal'  ed,  closed  up ;  under  seal.  E  clipse',  darkness ;  obscuration. 

Sep'  ul  cher,  {ch  like  k\  grave ;  tomb.     Cher'  ish  ed,  fostered. 

Sum'  mon  ed,  called.  En  shrinked,  sacredly  preserved. 

Ag'  o  NY,  extreme  sui^ermg.  (  Ut'  tee  ed,  expressed. 


CARELESS    WORDS* 

1.  Oh,  never  say  a  careless  Word 

Hath  not  the  power  to  pain  ; 
The  shaft  may  ope  some  hidden  wound, 

That  closes  not  again  ! 
Weigh  well  those  light- winged  messengers ; 

God  marked  your  heedless  Word, 
And  with  it,  too,  the  falling  tear, 

The  heart-pang  that  it  stirred. 

2.  Words!  what  are  Words ?     A  simple  Word 

Hath  spells  to  call  the  tears. 
That  long  have  lain  a  sealed  fount, 

Unclosed  through  mournful  years. 
Back  from  the  unseen  sepulcher, 

A  Word  hath  summoned  forth 
A  form  that  hath  its  place  no  more 

Among  the  things  of  Earth. 

3.  Words  !  heed  them  well ;  some  whispered  one 

Hath  yet  a  power  to  fling 


NUMBER    FOUR.  .  g]^ 

A  shadow  on  the  brow,  the  soul 

In  agonj  to  wring  ; 
A  name,  forbidden,  or  forgot, 

That  sometimes,  unawares. 
Murmurs  upon  our  wak'ning  lips, 

And  mingles  in  our  prayers. 

4.  Oh,  Words  !  sweet  Words !     A  blessing  comes 

Softly  from  kindly  lips  ; 
Tender,  endearing  tones,  that  break 

The  Spirit's  drear  eclipse. 
Oh  I  are  there  not  some  cherished  tones 

In  the  deep  heart  enshrined, 
Uttered  but  once — they  passed — and  left 

A  track  of  light  behind'  ? 

Questions. — 1.  What  is  said  of  careless  words?  2.  What,  of  swMi 
ivords  f  3.  What  is  the  use  of  the  apostrophe  in  walc'ning,  third  verse  7 
4.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  suffix  less,  in  the  words  careless,  heedless  7 
See  Sanders'  New  Speller,  Definer,  and  Analyzer,  page  143,  Ex.  369. 


LESSON    XIV. 

Teg'  e  ta  ble$,  plants.  \  Prac'  ti  cal,  pertaining  to  practice. 
Dep  RE  da' TiON,  robbery;  plunder,  j  Dis  tin"  guish  ed,  celebrated. 

Cap'  tor  ing,  catching.  |  Ju'  rist,  one  versed  in  law. 

Tres'  pass  er,  transgressor.  \  Ap  fect'ed,  moved;  impressed. 

Ap  peal'  ed,  referred.  i  Fur'  nish  ed,  supplied. 

Coun'  sel,  lawyer;  advocate.  j  Yi'  o  la  ted,  broken;  transgressed. 

Ar'  gu  ment,  plea;  reason.  \  De  prive',  rob;  hinder. 

Urg'  ing,  enforcing ;  advocating.  J  Al  lud'  ed,  referred ;  adverted. 

Mrs' CHIET  ous,  hurtful;  injurious.  \  Restore',  give  back. 
4  U                                        4* 


32  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

WEBSTER  ANO  THE  WOOOCHUCK* 

Boston  Tkaveleb. 

1.  Ebenezer  Webster,  the  father  of  Daniel,  was  a  farmer. 
The  vegetables  in  his  garden  had  suffered  considerably  from 
the  depredations  of  a  woodchuck,  which  had  his  hole  or 
habitation  near  the  premises.  Daniel,  some  ten  or  twelve 
years  old,  and  his  older  brother  Ezekiel,  had  set  a  trap,  and 
finally  succeeded  in  capturing  the  trespasser. 

2.  Ezekiel  proposed  to  kill  the  animal,  and  end,  at  once, 
all  further  trouble  from  him  ;  but  Daniel  looked  with  com- 
passion upon  his  meek,  dumb  captive,  and  offered  to  let  him 
again  go  free.  The  boys  could  not  agree,  and  each  appealed 
to  their  father  to  decide  the  case. 

8.  "Well,  my  boys,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "/  will  be 
the  judge.  There  is  the  prisoner,  (pointing  to  the  wood- 
chuck,)  and  you  shall  be  the  counsel,  and  plead  the  csise  for 
and  against  his  life  and  liberty." 

4.  Ezekiel  opened  the  case  with  a  strong  argument,  urg- 
ing the  mischievous  nature  of  the  criminal,  the  great  harm 
he  had  already  done ;  said  that  much  time  and  labor  had 
been  spent  in  his  capture,  and  now,  if  he  was  suffered  to  live 
and  go  again  at  large,  he  would  renew  his  depredations,  and 
be  cunning  enough  not  to  suffer  himself  to  be  caught  again. 

5.  He  urged,  further,  that  his  skin  was  of  some  value, 
and  that,  to  make  the  most  of  him  they  could,  it  would  not 
repay  half  the  damage  he  had  already  done.  His  argument 
was  ready,  practical,  to  the  point,  and  of  much  greater  length 
than  our  limits  will  allow  us  to  occupy  in  relating  the  story. 

6.  The  father  looked  with  pride  upon  his  son,  who  became 
a  distinguished  jurist  in  his  manhood.  "  Now,  Daniel,  it  is 
your  turn :  I'll  hear  what  you  have  to  say." 

7.  It  was  his  first  case.  Daniel  saw  that  the  plea  of  his 
brother  had  sensibly  affected  his  father,  the  judge,  and  as  his 


NUMBER    FOUR.  33 

large,  brilliant,  black  eyes  looked  upon  the  soft,  timid,  expres- 
sion of  the  animal,  and  he  saw  it  tremble  with  fear  in  its 
narrow  prison-house,  his  heart  swelled  with  pitj,  and  he 
urged,  with  eloquent  words,  that  the  captive  might  again  go 
free. 

8.  "God,"  he  said,  "had  made  the  woodchuck  ;  he  made 
him  to  live,  to  enjoy  the  bright  sunlight,  the  pure  air,  the 
free  fields  and  woods.  God  had  not  made  him,  or  any  thing, 
in  vain;  the  woodchuck  had  as  much  right  to  life  as  any 
other  living  thing. 

9.  "  He  was  not  a  destructive  animal,  as  the  wolf  and  the 
fox  were ;  he  simply  ate  a  few  common  vegetables,  of  which 
they  had  plenty,  and  could  well  spare  a  part ;  he  destroyed 
nothing  except  the  little  food  he  needed  to  sustain  his  humble 
life;  and  that  little  food  was  as  sweet  to  him,  and  as 
necessary  to  his  existence,  as  was  to  them  the  food  upon  his 
mother's  table. 

10.  "  God  furnished  their  own  food ;  he  gave  them  all  they 
possessed ;  and  would  they  not  spare  a  little  for  the  dumb 
creature,  that  really  had  as  much  right  to  his  small  share  of 
God's  bounty,  as  they  themselves  had  to  their  portion'  ? 

11.  "  Yea,  more,  the  animal  had  never  violated  the  laws  of 
his  nature  or  the  laws  of  God,  as  man  often  did ;  but  strictly 
followed  the  simple,  harmless  instincts  he  had  received  from 
the  hand  of  the  Creator  of  all  things.  Created  by  God's 
hand,  he  had  a  right — a  right  from  God — to  life,  to  food,  to 
liberty;  and  they  had  no  right  to  deprive  him  of  either." 

12.  He  alluded  to  the  mute,  but  earnest  pleadings  of  the 
animal  for  that  life,  as  sweet,  as  dear  to  him,  as  their  own 
was  to  them,  and  the  just  judgment  they  might  expect, if,  in 
selfish  cruelty  and  cold  heartlessness,  they  took  the  life  they 
could  not  restore  again — the  life  that  God  alone  had  given. 

13.  During  this  appeal,  the  tears  had  started  to  the  old 


84  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

man's  ejes,  and  were  fast  running  down  his  sun-burnt  cheeks  : 
every  feeling  of  a  father's  heart  was  stirred  within  him ;  he 
sa^r  the  future  greatness  of  his  son  before  his  eyes ;  he  felt 
that  God  had  blessed  him  in  his  children,  beyond  the  lot  of 
most  men. 

14.  His  pity  and  sympathy  were  awakened  by  the  eloquent 
words  of  compassion,  and  the  strong  appeal  for  mercy ;  and, 
forgetting  the  judge  in  the  man  and  father,  he  sprang  from 
his  chair,  (while  Daniel  was  in  the  midst  of  his  argument, 
without  thinking  he  had  already  won  his  case,)  and,  turning 
to  his  older  son,  dashing  the  tears  from  his  eyes,  exclaimf'd, 
^^  Ezekiel^  Ezekiel,  you  let  that  woodchuck  go  P^ 

Questions. — 1.  What  did  Ezekiel  propcJBe  to  do  with  the  woodchuck 
after  he  was  caught?  2.  What  argument  did  he  offer  for  so  doing? 
3.  What  did  Daniel  wish  to  do  with  him?  4.  What  argument  did  he 
offer  7     5.  What  was  their  father's  decision  ? 


LESSON    XV. 

Solve,  explain ;  work  out  J  Con''  scious,  self-perceived ;  felt. 

Prob'  lem,  question  for  solution.  Dem  on  stra'  tion,  formal  proof 

Com  pell'  ed,  obliged.  Ee  clin'ing,  leaning  back. 

In'  do  lent,  idle ;  lazy.  |  Pon'  der$,  weighs ;  examines. 

1  Proc'  ess,  operation. 


DO    IT    YOURSELF* 

1.  Do  not  ask  the  teacher  or  some  classmate  to  solve  that 
hard  problem.  Do  it  yourself.  You  might  as  well  let 
him  eat  your  dinner  as  "do  your  sums"  for  you.  It  is  in 
studying  as  in  eating ;  he  who  does  it,  gets  the  benefit,  and 
not  he  who  sees  it  done.  In  almost  any  school,  the  teacher 
learns  more  than  the  best  scholars,  simply  because  he  is 


NUMBER    FOUR.  85 

compelled  to  solve  all  the  difficult  problems,  and  answer  all 
the  questions  of  the  indolent  pupils. 

2.  Do  not  ask  jour  teacher  to  parse  that  difficult  word, 
or  assist  you  in  the  performance  of  any  of  your  studies. 
Do  IT  YOURSELF.  Never  mind,  though  they  do  look  dark. 
Do  not  ask  even  a  hint  from  any  one.  Try  again.  Every 
trial  increases  your  ability,  and  you  will  finally  succeed  by 
dint  of  the  very  wisdom  and  strength  gained  in  the  effi)rt, 
even  though,  at  first,  the  problem  was  beyond  your  skill. 
It  is  the  study ^  and  not  the  answer^  that  really  rewards 
your  labor. 

3.  Look  at  that  boy,  who  has  just  succeeded,  after  six 
hours  of  hard  study.  How  his  large  eye  is  lit  up  with  a 
proud  joy,  as  he  marches  to  his  class  !  He  treads  like  a 
conqueror !  And  well  he  may.  Last  night  his  lamp 
burned,  and  this  morning  he  waked  at  dawn.  Once  or 
twice  he  nearly  gave  it  up.  He  had  tried  his  last  thought; 
but  a  new  thought  strikes  him,  and  he  ponders  the  last  pro- 
cess. He  tries  once  more^  and  succeeds;  and  now  mark 
the  air  of  conscious  strength  with  which  he  pronounces  bis 
demonstration. 

4.  His  poor,  weak  schoolmate,  who  gave  up  that  same 
problem,  after  his  first  trial,  now  looks  up  to  him  wath 
something  of  a  wonder,  as  a  superior  being.  And  he  is 
his  superior.  That  problem  lies  there,  a  great  gulf  between 
those  boys  who  stood  side  by  side  yesterday. 

5.  The  boy  who  did  it  for  himself  has  taken  a  stride 
upward,  and  what  is  better  still,  has  gained  strength  to 
take  other  and  better  ones.  The  boy  who  waited  to  see 
others  do  it,  has  lost  both  strength  and  courage,  and  is 
already  looking  for  some  good  excuse  to  give  up  school  and 
study-forever. 

6.  Do  IT  YOURSELF.     Eemember  the  counsel  given  to  the 


gg  SAllfDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

artist,  who  lay  reclining  upon  his  couch,  and  wondering  what 
the  fates  would  work  out  for  him.  Directing  his  attention 
to  a  block  of  unhewn  marble,  with  a  chisel  lying  by  its 
side,  the  sculptor  in  the  vision  is  represented  as  thus  address- 
ing him :   "  Sir, 

"There's  the  marble,  there's  the  chisel, 
^^  Take  it,  work  it  to  thy  will ; 

Thou  alone  must  shape  thy  future. 
Heaven  send  thee  strength  and  skill !" 

Questions. — 1.  "Who  is  benefited  in  studying  ?  2.  What  really  rewards 
the  labor  of  study  ?  3.  What  is  said  of  the  boy  who  succeeded,  after  six 
hours  of  hard  study  ?  4.  What,  of  the  boy  who  gave  up,  after  the  first 
trial  ?  5.  What  counsel  was  given  to  the  artist  who  wondered  what  the 
fates  would  work  out  for  him  ? 

How  are  the  words  to  be  read,  which  are  printed  in  Italics  and  in  cap- 
itals ?    See  page  22,  Note  III. 


LESSON   XVI. 

Slack' EN,  relax;  lessen.  j  Ut' tee  most,    very  best 

En  deav'  or,  effort ;  exertion.  >  Dae'  ing,  courage ;  bravery. 

Whole'  some,  useful ;  salutary.  \  De  fect',  fault ;  deficiency. 
Ex  cel',  surpass ;  outdo.  Re  pin'  ing,  fretting ;  complaining. 

Out  strip' PED,  outrun;  excelled.  >  Un  a  vail' ing,  vain;  useless. 

Sue  pass'  ed,  excelled.  \  Cor  rect',  amend ;  make  right 

Vic' TO  EY,  conquest;  triumph.  ]  Max' IM,  proverb;  saying. 


BETTER  LATE  THAN  NEVER* 

1.  Life  is  a  race^  where  some  succeed, 
While  others  are  beginning ; 
'Tis  luck,  at  times,  at  others,  speed, 
That  gives  an  early  winning. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  87 

But,  if  you  chance  to  fall  behind, 

Ne'er  slacken  your  endeavor ; 
Just  keep  this  wholesome  truth  in  mind : 

'  Tis  better  late  than  never  ! 


2.  If  you  can  keep  ahead,  'tis  well; 

But  never  trip  your  neighbor ; 
'Tis  noble  when  you  can  excel 

By  honest,  patient  labor. 
But,  if  you  are  outstripped,  at  last, 

Press  on,  as  bold  as  ever ; 
Remember,  though  you  are  surpassed, 

'  Tis  better  late  than  never  ! 


Ne'er  labor  for  an  idle  boast 

Of  victory  o'er  another ; 
But,  while  you  strive  your  uttermost, 

Deal  fairly  with  a  brother. 
Whate'er  your  station,  do  your  best. 

And  hold  your  purpose  ever ; 
And,  if  you  fail  to  beat  the  rest, 

'  Tis  better  late  than  never  ! 


4.  Choose  well  the  path  in  which  you  run, — 

Succeed  by  noble  daring  ; 
Then,  though  the  last,  when  once  'tis  won, 

Your  crown  is  worth  the  wearing. 
Then  never  fret,  if  left  behind, 

Nor  slacken  your  endeavor  ; 
But  ever  keep  this  truth  in  mind : 

'  Tis  better  late  than  never  ! 


88  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

5.  Yet,  would  you  cure  this  sad  defect, 

Repining's  unavailing ; 
Begin,  at  once,  and  now  correct 

This  very  common  failing. 
This  day  resolve, — this  very  hour^ 

Nor  e'en  a  moment  wait ; 
Go,  make  this  better  maxim  yours, — 

'  Tis  better  never  late  ! 

Questions. — 1.  To  what  is  life  compared,  first  verse  ?  2.  What  advice 
is  given  «/  you  chance  to  fall  heJiind?  3.  How  ought  you  to  treat  your  com- 
petitors? 4.  What  is  a  very  common  failing  ?  5.  How  may  it  bo  cor- 
rected ?  6.  What  is  the  use  of  the  apostrophe  in  the  word  repining^s,  fifth 
verse  ? 

LESSON     XVII. 

Adopt' ED,  taken  as  one's  own.        s  Thyme,  (<me,)  fragrant  plant. 
Pil'  lar  ED,  supported  by  pillars.      |  Vine'  yard,  plantation  of   grape- 
Twi'  LIGHT,  faint  light  after  sunset      Dye,  hue ;  color.  [vines, 

and  before  sunrise.  \  Spark'  ling,  emitting  bubbles. 

THE    ADOPTED    CHXlcD. 

Mbs.  Hehani. 
LADY. 

Why  wouldst  thou  leave  me,  0  gentle  child  ? 
Thy  home  on  the  mountains  is  bleak  and  wild, 
A  straw-roofed  cabin  with  lowly  wall ; 
Mine  is  a  fair  and  a  pillared  hall. 
Where  many  an  image  of  marble  gleams. 
And  the  sunshine  of  picture  forever  streams. 

BOY. 

^    Oh,  green  is  the  turf  where  my  brothers  play, 
Through  the  long,  bright  hours  of  the  summer-day ; 


NUMBER   FOUR.  gg 

They  find  the  red  cup-moss  where  they  climb, 
And  they  chase  the  bee  o'er  the  scented  thyme ; 
And  the  rocks  where  the  heath-flower  blooms  they  know, 
Lady,  kind  lady  !  oh,  let  me  go ! 

LADY. 
Content  thee,  boy,  in  my  bower  to  dwell ; 
Here  are  sweet  sounds  which  thou  lovest  well,— 
Flutes  on  the  air  in  the  stilly  noon, 
Harps  which  the  wandering  breezes  tune. 
And  the  silvery  wood-note  of  many  a  bird. 
Whose  voice  was  ne'er  in  thy  mountains  heard.  . 

BOY. 

My  mother  sings,  at  the  twilight's  fall, 
A  song  of  the  hills,  far  more  sweet  than  all ; 
She  sings  it  under  our  own  green  tree, 
To  the  babe  half-slumbering  on  her  knee ; 
I  dreamed,  last  night,  of  that  music  low, — • 
Lady,  kind  lady  !  oh,  let  me  go  ! 

LADY. 

{pt)  Thy  mother  hath  gone  from  her  cares  to  rest ; 
She  hath  taken  the  babe  on  her  quiet  breast ; 
Thou  wouldst  meet  her  footstep,  my  boy,  no  more. 
Nor  hear  her  song  at  the  cabin- door  : 
Come  thou  with  me  to  the  vineyards  nigh. 
And  we'll  pluck  the  grapes  of  the  richest  dye. 

BOY. 

Is  my  mother  gone  from  her  home  away'  ? — 
But  T  know  that  my  brothers  are  there  at  play ; 


90  SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

I  know  they  are  gathering  the  fox-glove's  bell, 

Or  the  long  fern  leaves  by  the  sparkling  well ; 

Or  they  launch  their  boats  where  the  bright  streams  flow, 

Lady,  kind  lady  !  oh,  let  me  go ! 

LADY. 

Fair  child,  thy  brothers  are  wanderers  now, 
They  sport  no  more  on  the  mountain's  brow ; 
They  have  left  the  fern  by  the  spring's  green  side, 
And  the  streams  where  the  fairy  barks  were  tried : 
Be  thou  at  peace  in  thy  brighter  lot, 
For  thy  cabin-home  is  a  lonely  spot. 

BOY. 

Are  they  gone,  all  gone  from  the  sunny  hill'  ? 
But  the  bird  and  the  blue  fly  rove  o'er  it  still, 
And  the  red  deer  bound  in  their  gladness  free, 
And  the  heath  is  bent  by  the  singing  bee. 
And  the  waters  leap,  and  the  fresh  winds  blow, — 
Lady,  kind  lady  !  oh,  let  me  go  ! 

Questions. — 1.  What  kind  of  words  are  straw-roofed^  heath-fiower,  wood' 
note,  &c.  ?  2.  "What  is  the  use  of  the  apostrophes  in  the  words  o'er,  we'er, 
iwilighfs,  &c.? 


LESSON    XVIII. 


Ap  par'  ent  lt,  evidently. 

Cen'  tu  ry,  h\mdred  years. 

Gi  oan'  tic,  very  large. 

Spe'  cie$,  sort ;  kind. 

Di  men'  sion,  size ;  bulk. 

Sub  lime',  grand ;  magnificent,  [ance. 


Olam'  or  ous,  noisy ;  importunate. 

In  de  CIS'  ION,  doubt ;  irresolution. 

Poi$'  ED,  balanced. 

At'  mos  phere,  surrounding  air. 

Tal'  on$,  claws. 

Dis  tri  bu'  tion,  division. 


Un  mo  lest'  ed,  free  from  disturb-     Eo'  sta  sy,  excessive  joy ;  transport. 
DiS  PERS'  ED,  separated ;  scattered.    \  Per'  SB  cur  ed,  harassed ;  injured. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  91 

THE    OLD    EAGLE    TREE* 

Kev.  John  Todd. 

1.  In  a  remote  field  stood  a  large  tulip  tree,  apparently 
of  a  century's  growth,  and  one  of  the  most  gigantic  of  that 
splendid  species.  It  looked  like  the  father  of  the  surround- 
ing forest.  A  single  tree,  of  huge  dimensions,  standing  all 
alone,  is  a  sublime  object. 

2.  On  the  top  of  this  tree,  an  old  eagle,  commonly  called 
the  "Fishing  Eagle,"  had  built  her  nest  every  year,  for 
many  years,  and,  unmolested,  raised  her  young.  What  is 
remarkable,  as  she  procured  her  food  from  the  ocean,  this 
tree  stood  full  ten  miles  from  the  sea-shore.  It  had, long 
been  known  as  the  "Old  Eagle  tree." 

3.  On  a  warm,  sunny  day,  the  workmen  were  hoeing  corn 
in  an  adjoining  field.  At  a  certain  hour  of  the  day,  the  old 
eagle  was  known  to  set  off  for  the  sea-side,  to  gather  food  for 
her  young.  As  she  this  day  returned  with  a  large  fish  in 
her  claws,  the  workmen  surrounded  the  tree,  and,  by  yell- 
ing, and  hooting,  and  throwing  stones,  so  scared  the  poor 
bird  that  she  dropped  her  fish,  and  they  carried  it  off  in 
triumph. 

4.  The  men  soon  dispersed ;  but  Joseph  sat  down  under 
a  bush  near  by,  to  watch,  and  to  bestow  unavailing  pity. 
The  bird  soon  returned  to  her  nest  without  food.  The 
eaglets  at  once  set  up  a  cry  for  food,  so  shrill,  so  clear,  and 
so  clamorous,  that  the  boy  was  greatly  moved. 

5.  The  parent  bird  seemed  to  try  to  soothe  them;  but 
their  appetites  were  too  keen,  and  it  was  all  in  vain.  She 
then  perched  herself  on  a  limb  near  them,  and  looked  down 
into  the  nest  with  a  look  that  seemed  to  say,  "  I  know  not 
what  to  do  next." 

6.  Her  indecision  was  but  momentary ;  again  she  poised 
herself,  uttered  one  or  two  sharp  notes,  as  if  telling  them  to 


.92  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

''lie  Still,"  balanced  her  body,  spread  her  wings,  and  was 
awaj  again  for  the  sea ! 

7.  Joseph  was  determined  to  see  the  result.  His  eye  fol- 
lowed her  till  she  grew  small,  smaller, — a  mere  speck  in  the 
sky,  —  and  then  disappeared.  What  boy  has  not  thus 
watched  the  flight  of  the  bird  of  his  country  in  this  way  ? 

8.  She  was  gone  nearly  two  hours,  about  double  her 
usual  time  for  a  voyage,  when  she  again  returned,  on  a 
slow,  weary  wing,  flying  uncommonly  low,  in  order  to  have 
a  heavier  atmosphere  to  sustain  her,  with  another  fish  in  her 
talons. 

9.  On  nearing  the  field,  she  made  a  circuit  around  it,  to 
see  it  her  enemies  were  again  there.  Finding  the  coast 
clear,  she  once  more  reached  her  tree,  drooping,  faint,  and 
wearv,  and  evidently  nearly  exhausted.  Again  the  eaglets 
set  up  their  cry,  which  was  soon  hushed  by  the  distribution 
of  a  dinner,  such  as — save  the  cooking — a  king  might  ad- 
mire. 

10.  "Glorious  bird!"  cried  the  boy  in  Ecstasy,  and 
aloud;  "what  a  spirit!  Other  birds  can  fly  swifter,  others 
can  sing  more  sweetly,  others  can  scream  more  loudly ;  but 
what  other  bird,  when  persecuted  and  robbed — when  weary 
— when  discouraged — when  so  far  from  sea, — would  do  it ! 

11.  "  Glorious  bird  !  I  will  learn  a  lesson  from  thee 
to-day.  I  will  never  forget  hereafter,  that  when  the  spirit 
is  determined,  it  can  do  almost  any  thing.  Others  would 
have  drooped  and  hung  the  head,  and  mourned  over  the 
cruelty  of  man,  and  sighed  over  the  wants  of  the  nestlings ; 
but  thoit^  by  at  once  recovering  the  loss,  hast  forgotten  all. 

12.  "I  will  learn  of  thee,  noble  bird!  I  will  remember 
this.  I  will  set  my  mark  high.  I  will  try  to  do  something, 
and  to  he  something  in  the  world ;  /  will  never  yield  to  dis^ 
couraoementsJ'^ 


r^UMBER    FOUR.  93 

Questions. — 1.  How  far  was  this  Old  Eagle  tree  from  the  ^ea-shore  ?  2. 
In  what  way  did  the  workmen  obtain  the  fish  she  brought  for  her  young  ? 
3.  What  is  said  of  the  eaglets  and  the  parent  bird,  when  she  returned  to 
the  nest?  4.  What  did  she  then  do?  5.  What  did  Joseph  say  when 
she  returned  with  another  fish  ? 


LESSON   XIX. 

Aug'  tion,  vendue ;  public  sale.         I  Re  verse'  (re,  back  or  again ,  YERSE, 

Home'  less,  (less,  without  or  destitute  turn),  turn  back,  or  exchange  places. 

o/,)  without  home.  <  Acquire',  gam;  obtain. 

Pen'  ni  less,  destitute  of  pennies.  Il  lus  tra'  tion,  explanation. 

Waste'  less,  without  waste.  |  Sol'  i  ta  by,  single. 

Un  light'  ED,  (uN,  not,)  not  lighted.  Dis  pel',  drive  away ;  disperse. 

Self'  isn  ness,  devoted  to  one's  self,  j  Be  night'  ed,  unenlightened. 

THE    LIGHT    OF    KNOWLEDGE* 

Slihu  Bubkitt. 

1.  Knowledge  can  not  be  stolen  from  you.  It  can  not 
be  bought  or  sold.  You  may  be  poor^  and  the  sheriff  come 
into  your  house,  and  sell  your  furniture  at  auction,  or  drive 
away  your  cow,  or  take  your  lamb,  and  leave  you  homeless 
and  penniless  ;  but  he  can  not  lay  the  law's  hand  upon  the 
jewelry  of  your  mind.  This  can  not  be  taken  for  debt; 
neither  cas  you  ^ive  it  away,  though  you  give  enough  of  it 
to  fill  a  million  minds. 

2.  I  will  tell  you  what  such  giving  is  like.  Suppose, 
now,  that  there  were  no  sun  nor  stars  in  the  heavens,  nor 
any  thing  that  shone  in  the  black  brow  of  night ;  and  sup- 
pose that  a  lighted  lamp  were  put  into  your  hand,  which 
should  burn  wasteless  and  clear  amid  all  the  tempests  that 
should  brood  upon  this  lower  world. 

3.  Suppose,  next,  that  there  were  a  thousand  millions  of 


94  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

human  beings  on  the  earth  with  you,  each  holding  in  his 
hand  an  unlighted  lamp,  filled  with  the  same  oil  as  yours, 
and  capable  of  giving  as  much  light.  Suppose  these  millions 
should  come,  one  bj  one,  to  you,  and  light  each  his  lamp  by 
yours,  would  they  rob  you  of  any  light'  ?  Would  less  of  it 
shine  on  your  own  path'  ?  Would  your  lamp  burn  more 
dimly  for  lighting  a  thousand  millions'  ? 

4.  Thus  it  is,  young  friends.  In  getting  rich  in  the 
things  which  perish  with  the  using,  men  have  often  obeyed 
to  the  letter  that  first  commandment  of  selfishness:  '■''Keep 
what  you  can  get ^  and  get  what  you  canV  In  filling  your 
minds  with  the  wealth  of  knowledge,  you  must  reverse  this 
rule,  and  obey  this  law :  "  Keep  what  you  give^  and  give 
what  you  can.'''' 

5.  The  fountain  of  knowledge  is  filled  by  its  outlets^  not 
by  its  inlets.  You  can  learn  nothing  which  you  do  not 
teach  ;  you  can  acquire  nothing  of  intellectual  wealth,  except 
by  giving.  In  the  illustration  of  the  lamps,  which  I  have 
given  you,  was  not  the  light  of  tbe  thousands  of  millions 
which  were  lighted  at  yours,  as  much  your  light,  as  if  it  all 
came  from  your  solitary  lamp'?  Did  you  not  dispel  dark- 
ness by  giving  away  light'  ? 

6.  Remember  this  parable,  and,  whenever  you  fall  in  with 
an  unlighted  mind  in  your  walk  of  life,  drop  a  kind  and 
glowing  thought  upon  it  from  yours,  and  set  it  a-burning  in 
the  world  with  a  light  that  shall  shine  in  some  dark  place  to 
beam  on  the  benighted. 

Questions. — 1.  What  is  said  of  knowledge?  2.  What  is  the  giving  of 
knowledge  like  ?  3.  In  getting  rich,  what  precept  have  men  obeyed  ?  4. 
What  precept  must  be  obeyed  in  getting  knowledge  ?  5.  How  is  knowl- 
edge best  acquired  ?  6.  What  is  meant  by  the  jewelry  of  the  mind,  first 
paragraph  ?    7.  What,  by  intellectual  wealth,  fifth  paragraph  ? 


NUMBER   FOUR.  95 


LESSON   XX. 

Ex  tin"  guish  ED,  put  out.  •>  Host,  great  multitude. 

Sol'  emn,  graye ;  serious.  Ex'  tra,  additional. 

Gar'  ri  son,  fortress  furnished  with     Ores'  cent,  form  of  the  new  moon. 

soldiers,  for  defense.  j  Hail'  ed,  saluted. 

Sen'  ti  nel,    soldier  on  guard.  Ef  ful'  gence,  splendor. 

Car'  a  van,    company  of  traveling     Re'  gen  cy,  rule ;  government. 

traders  or  pilgrims.  [stars.      Wan'  ing,  decreasing. 

Con  stel  la'  tion$,  clusters  of  fixed     Sup  pli  ca'  tion,  prayer ;  petition. 
Brill' iant,  shining;  sparkling.        J  Rapt' ure,  great  joy;  transport. 

^  Pal'  es  tine  includes  that  part  of  Turkey  in  Asia,  lying  on  the  eastern 
borders  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea. 


NIGHT'S    LESSONS. 

L.   II.  SiGOtTRNEY. 

1.  The  lessons  of  our  school  are  over.  The  lights  in  the 
distant  windows  are  extinguished,  one  after  the  other.  The 
village  will  soon  be  lost  in  slumber.  When  all  the  men 
and  the  women  are  asleep,  must  we  keep  awake  to  learn 
lessons'  ? 

2.  In  large  cities,  there  may  be  heard,  now  and  then,  the 
rushing  wheel  of  the  traveler.  The  watchmen  pace  their 
round,  and  cry,  ^^All  is  welV.^^  In  the  long,  cold  nights 
of  Norway,  the  watchmen  who  guard  the  capitol,  pronounce, 
in  a  solemn  tone,  "  God  bless  our  good  city  of  Bergen  !"' 

3.  In  the  garrison,  or  the  endangered  fortress,  the  armed 
sentinel  keeps  watch,  lest  they  should  be  surprised  by  the 
foe.  But  in  this  peaceful  village  there  is  no  need  of  either 
sentinel  or  watchman.  Why  may  we  not  go  to  sleep,  instead 
of  learning  Night's  lessons? 

4.  My  son,  one  of  these  you  may  learn  in  a  moment.  Did 
you  say  that  all  will  soon  be  sleeping'?  No^ !  there  is  one 
Eye  that  never  slumbers.     He  who  made  all  the  people, 


96  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

keepeth  watch  above  the  everlasting  hills.    Commit  yourself 
tc  His  care. 

5.  Now,  will  you  learn  with  me  the  second  lesson  of  the 
night'  ?  Lift  your  eyes  to  yon  glorious  canopy\  Seest  thou 
not  there  a  sentinel,  set  by  the  Eternal,  at  the  northern  gate 
of  heaven', — the  pole-star'? 

6.  The  pole-starM  Blessings  are  breathed  upon  it,  by 
the  weary  caravan,  fearing  the  poisonous  wind  of  the  desert, 
— by  the  red  forest-children,  seeking  their  home  beyond  the 
far  Western  prairies, — and  by  the  lonely  mariner,  upon  the 
pathless  ocean. 

7.  The  stars^ !  See  them^  1  The  oil  in  their  lamps 
never  burns  out.  These  glorious  constellations  wheel  their 
mighty  course  unchanged,  while  "man  dieth  and  wasteth 
away,  yea,  man  giveth  up  the  ghost,  and  where  is  he?"^ 

8.  Yon  brilliant  orbs  maintain  their  places,  while  count- 
less generations  pass  away,  and  nations  disappear  and  are 
forgotten.  Let  us  bow  in  humility  before  "  Him  who  bring- 
eth  out  their  host  by  number,  who  calleth  them  all  by 
names,  by  the  greatness  of  His  might,  for  that  He  is  strong 
in  power;  not  one  faileth."f 

9.  Thirteen  times  in  the  year,  Night,  the  teacher,  gives 
extra  lessons.  Will  you  be  there  to  learn  them  ?  First, 
she  hangs  up  a  pale  crescent  in  the  west.  The  ancient 
Jews  hailed  its  infant  beam,  and  answering  fires  of  joy  were 
kindled  on  the  hills  of  Palestine.' 

10.  Kext,  she  summons  forjh  a  rounded  orb,  clad  in  full 
effulgence,  and  commits  to  it  the  regency  when  the  sun  re- 
tires. Lastly,  a  slender,  waning  crescent  appears  nightly, 
like  an  aged  man,  ready  to  descend  into  the  night  of  the 
tomb. 

*  Job,  14th  chap.,  10th  verse.  f  Isaiah,  40th  chap.,  26th  verse. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  yj 

11.   ^'  Soon,  as  the  evening  shades  prevail, 
The  moon  takes  up  the  wondrous  tale, 
And  nightly  to  the  listening  earth, 
Eepeats  the  story  of  her  birth ; 
While  all  the  stars  that  round  her  burn, 
And  all  the  planets  in  their  turn, 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll. 
And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole.'' 

12.  These  are  some  of  Night's  lessons.  Are  you  tired 
of  them'  ?  Or,  will  you  learn  one  more^  ?  Lift  up  your 
heart  to  Him  who  has  given  you  the  past  day,  with  thanks 
for  its  blessings, — with  penitence  for  its  faults, — with  sup- 
plication for  strength  and  wisdom  for  the  time  that  is 
to  come. 

13.  "  Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto 
night  showeth  knowledge"'*'  of  God.  Thus,  meekly  and 
faithfully  studying  Night's  lessons,  may  we  find 

"Even  sorrow,  touched  by  Heaven,  grows  brigjit 
With  more  than  rapture's  ray, 
As  darkness  shows  us  worlds  of  light. 
We  never  saw  by  day." 


Questions. — 1.  Who  watches  over  us  when  asleep  ?  2.  In  what  way  is  tho 
pole-star  useful  to  man  ?  3.  What  is  said  of  the  stars  ?  4.  What  extra 
lessons  is  it  that  night  gives,  thirteen  times  a  year?  5.  Describe  the  first 
appearance  of  tho  moon.  6.  How  does  it  next  appear  ?  7.  Where  is  Pal- 
estine? 8.  Where  are  the  passages  to  be  found,  quoted  in  the  7th,  8th, 
and  13th  paragraphs  ?  9.  Do  you  know  who  is  the  author  of  the  11th 
verse?     Ans.  Addison. 


*  Psalm  19th,  2d  verse. 
4U  6 


t 


98  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 


LESSON   XXI, 

Hid'  den,  secret ;  concealed.  j  Yearn'  eth,  longetb. 
Quail,  sink;  droop.  Chant,  sing;  carol. 

Scorn'  ing,  disdaining.  Port'  al,  entrance ;  gate-way. 

Greet'  ing,  salutation.  Cheer'  y,  gay ;  lively. 

View'  less,  that  can  not  be  seen,  i  E  ter'  ni  ty,  endless  duration. 

NATURE^S     TEACHINGS. 

Chambeks'  Jouekai- 
FIRST   VOICE. 

1.  Sun-light'  !  tell  the  hidden  meaning 
Of  the  rajs  thou  lettest  fall ; 
Are  they  lessons  writ  in  burning, 
Like  God's  warning  on  the  walF  ? 

SECOND    VOICE. 

Strive,  0  man,  to  let  a  loving 
Spirit  cheer  the  sad  and  poor ; 
So  shall  many  a  fair  hope  blossom, 
Where  none  grew  before  ! 


FIRST  VOICE. 

2.  Stars' !  what  is  it  ye  would  whisper, 
With  your  pure  and  holy  light  ? 
Looking  down  so  calm  and  tender 
•From  the  watch-tower  of  the  night. 

SECOND    VOICE. 

When  thy  soul  would  quail  from  scorning, 
Keep  a  brave  heart  and  a  bold ; 
As  we  always  shine  the  brightest 
When  the  nights  are  cold. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  99 

EIRST  VOICE. 

3.  Hast  thou  not  a  greeting  for  me, 
Heaven's  own  happy  minstrel-bird'? 
Thou  whose  voice,  like  some  sweet  angel's, 
Viewless,  in  the  cloud  is  heard'  ? 

SECOND    VOICE. 

Though  thy  spirit  yearneth  sky-ward, 
Oh,  forget  not  human  worth ! 
I,  who  chant  at  heaven's  portal, 
Build  my  nest  on  earth. 

rmsT  VOICE. 

4.  Biver  !  river' !  singing  gnyly 
From  the  hill-side  all  day  long, 
Teach  my  heart  the  merry  music 
Of  thy  cheery,  rippling  soiig. 

SECOND    VOICE.       ' 

Many  winding  ways  I  follow ; 
Yet,  at  length,  I  reach  the  sea. 
Man,  remember  that  thy  ocean 
Is  Eternity  ! 

QrESTiONS. — 1.  "What  is  meant  by  God^s  warning  on  the  wall  ?     See  the 
5th  chap,  of  Daniel.     2.  What  is  meant  by  minstrel-bird?     Ans.  The  lark. 


LESSON   XXII. 

Glare,  dazzling  light.  (  Re  morse',  painful  regret. 

Blithe'  lt,  gayly ;  joyfully.  )  Wane,  decrease ;  grow  less. 

Wrought,  worked  ;  labored.  i  Fan'  cie$,  whims ;  notions. 

A  NON.'  is  an  abbreviation  of  anonymoics,  which  means  without  name; 
nameless.    See  Sanders'  Analysis,  page  88,  Exercise  \08. 


100  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

SOWING    AND    HARVESTING* 

Anox. 

1.  They  are  sowing  their  seed  in  the  daylight  fair, 
They  are  sowing  their  seed  in  the  noonday's  glare, 
They  are  sowing  their  seed  in  the  soft  twilight, 
They  are  sowing  their  seed  in  the  solemn  night; 

What  shall  their  harvest  be  ? 

2.  They  are  sowing  their  seed  of  pleasant  thought. 

In  the  spring's  green  light  they  have  blithely  wrought; 
They  have  brought  their  fancies  from  wood  and  dell. 
Where  the  mosses  creep,  and  the  flower-buds  swell ; 
Rare  shall  the  harvest  be  ! 

3.  They  are  sowing  the  seeds  of  word  and  deed. 
Which  the  cold  know  not,  nor  the  careless  heed, — 
Of  the  gentle  word  and  the  kindest  deed. 

That  have  blessed  the  heart  in  its  sorest  need ; 
Sweet  shall  the  harvest  be  ! 

4.  And  some  are  sowing  the  seeds  of  pain. 
Of  late  remorse,  and  in  maddened  brain ; 

And  the  stars  shall  fall,  and  the  sun  shall  wane, 
Ere  they  root  the  weeds  from  the  soil  again ; 
Da?^k  will  the  harvest  be  ! 

5.  And  some  are  standing  with  idle  hand, 
Yet  they  scatter  seeds  on  their  native  land ; 
And  some  are  sowing  the  seeds  of  care, 
Which  their  soil  has  borne,  and  still  must  bear; 

Sad  will  the  harvest  be  ! 


NUMBER    FOUR.        .  ^^jj 

6.  They  are  sowing  the  seed  of  noble  deed,  ''*'*' 
With  a  sleepless  watch  and  an  earnest  heed ; 
With  a  ceaseless  hand  o'er  the  earth  they  sow, 
And  the  fields  are  whitening  where'er  they  go ; 
Rich  will  the  harvest  be  ! 


7.   Sown  in  darkness,  or  sown  in  light, 
Sown  in  weakness,  or  sown  in  might. 
Sown  in  meekness,  or  sown  in  wrath, 
In  the  broad  work-field,  or  the  shadowy  path. 
Sure  will  the  harvest  be  ! 

Questions. — 1.  Who  are  meant  by  they  in  this  lesson  ?  2.  What  is  said 
of  those  who  are  sowing  the  seeds  of  word  and  deed  ?  3.  What,  of  those 
who  are  sowing  the  seeds  of  care?  4.  Repeat  the  last  verse.  5.  What 
passage  of  Scripture  teaches  the  same  idea  ?  Ans.  "  Whatsoever  a  man 
Boweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap." — Gal ,  6th  chap.,  7th  verse. 


LESSON    XXIII. 


For'  ti  fi  ed,  strengthened  by  works 

of  art  for  defense. 
Sul'  try,  close ;  oppressively  hot. 
Boat'  swain,  one  who  has  charge 

of  a  ship's  boats,  rigging,  &c. 
Tar$,  sailors. 
Moor'  ed,  anchored. 
BuOY$,  floats.  [ing  ships. 

An'  chor,  iron  instrument  for  hold- 
Star'  board,   right  side  of  a  ship. 


Fore'  gas  tle,  short  deck  in  the  foro 

Wake,  track.  [part  of  a  ship. 

Be  reft',  deprived. 

Im'  mi  nent,  impending. 

PiERc'  ED,  went  through. 

Fore  and  aft,  before  and  behind. 

Sway'  ed,  swung;  moved. 

Oar'  CASS,  dead  body. 

Ex  cite'  ment,  agitation. 

Pha'  $e$,  forms;  appearances. 


*  Sa  ha'  ra,  is  a  Great  Desert  in  Africa,  lying  south  of  the  Barbarv  States, 
and  extending  from  the  Atlantic  on  the  west  to  Egypt  and  Nul)ia  on  the 
east.     The  winds  that  cotne  from  this  desert,  are  hot,  and  suflfocatiug. 


102  SfNDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 


Anox. 


1.  Our  noble  ship  lay  at  anchor  in  the  Bay  of  Tangier, 
a  fortified  town  in  the  extreme  northwest  of  Africa.  The 
daj  had  been  extremely  mild,  with  a  gentle  breeze  sweep- 
ing to  the  northward  and  westward ;  but,  toward  the  close 
of  the  afternoon,  the  sea-breeze  died  away,  and  one  of  those 
sultry,  oven-like  breathings  came  from  the  great,  sun-burnt 
Sahara.  ^ 

2.  Half  an  hour  before  sundown,  the  captain  gave  the 
cheering  order  for  the  boatswain  to  call  the  hands  to  "go  in 
swimming,"  and,  in  less  than  five  minutes,  the  forms  of  our 
tars  were  seen  leaping  from  the  arms  of  the  lower  yards, 
into  the  water.  One  of  the  studding  sails,  with  its  corners 
suspended  from  the  main  yard-arm  and  the  swin^yin*:'  boom 
had  been  lowered  into  the  water,  and  into  this  most  of  the 
swimmers  made  their  way. 

3.  Among  those  who  seemed  to  be  enjoying  the  sport  most 
heartily,  were  two  of  the  boys,  Timothy  Wallace  and  Fred- 
eric Fairbanks,  the  latter  of  whom  was  the  son  of  our  old 
gunner,  and,  in  a  laughing  mood,  they  started  out  from  the 
studding  sail  on  a  race.  There  was  a  loud  ringing  shout  of 
joy  on  their  lips  as  they  put  ofi*,  and  they  darted  through 
the  water  like  fishes.  The  surfiice  of  the  sea  was  smooth  as 
glass,  though  its  bosom  rose  in  long,  heavy  swells  that  set  in 
from  the  Atlantic. 

4.  The  vessel  was  moored  with  a  long  sweep  from  both 
cables,  and  one  of  the  buoys  of  the  anchor  was  far  away  on 
the  starboard  quarter,  where  it  rose  and  fell  with  the  lazy 
swells  of  the  waves.  Toward  this  buoy  the  two  lads  made 
their  way,  young  Fairbanks  taking  the  lead  ;  but,  when  they 
were  within  about  twenty  or  thirty  fathoms  of  the  buoy, 
Wallace  shot  ahead,  and  promised  to  win  the  race. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  '  '  1Q^ 

5.  The  old  gunner  had  watched  the  progi'es^  'of  iiis  little 
son  with  a  great  degree  of  pride,  and  when  he  saw  him  drop 
behind,  he  leaped  upon  the  quarter-deck,  and  wa§  just  upon 
the  point  of  urging  him  on  by  a  shout,  when  a  cry  was  heard 
that  struck  him  with  instant  horror. 

6.  "J.  shark!  a  shark P''  was  sounded  from  the  captain 
of  the  forecastle,  and,  at  the  sound  of  these  terrible  words, 
the  men  who  were  in  the  water,  leaped  and  plunged  toward 
the  ship.  Right  abeam,  at  the  distance  of  three  or  four 
cables'  lengths,  was  seen  the  wake  of  a  shark  in  the  water, 
where  the  back  of  the  monster  was  visible.  His  course  was 
for  the  boys. 

7.  For  a  moment,  the  gunner  stood  like  one  bereft  of 
reason ;  but,  on  the  next,  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
for  the  boys  to  turn ;  but  they  heard  him  not.  Stoutly  the 
two  swimmers  strove  for  the  goal,  all  unconscious  of  their 
imminent  danger.  Their  merry  laugh  still  rang  over  the 
waters,  and,  at  length,  they  both  touched  the  buoy  together. 

8.  Oh,  what  agony  filled  the  heart  of  the  gunner !  A 
boat  had  put  off,  but  he  knew  that  it  could  not  reach  the 
boys  in  season,  and  every  moment  he  expected  to  see  the 
monster  sink  from  sight, — then  he  knew  that  all  hope  would 
be  gone.  At  this  moment,  a  cry  reached  the  ship,  that 
pierced  every  heart, — the  boys  had  discovered  their  enemy ! 

9.  The  cry  started  the  old  gunner  to  his  senses,  and 
quicker  than  thought,  he  sprang  from  the  quarter-deck. 
The  guns  were  all  loaded  and  shotted,  fore  and  aft,  and  none 
knew  their  temper  better  than  he.  With  steady  hand,  made 
strong  by  sudden  hope,  the  old  gunner  seized  a  priming-wire 
and  picked  the  cartridge  of  one  of  the  quarter  guns ;  then 
he  took  from  his  pocket  a  percussion  cap,  fixed  it  in  its 
place,  and  set  back  the  hammer  of  the  patent  lock. 

10.  With  a  giant  strength  the  old  man  swayed  the  breech 


104  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

'  'of ^t!ie  lieav^j  guti  to  its  bearing,  and  then  seizing  tbe  string 
of  the  lock,  he  stood  back  and  watched  for  the  next  swell 
that  would  bring  the  shark  in  range.  He  had  aimed  the 
piece  some  distance  ahead  of  his  mark ;  but  yet  a  little 
moment  would  settle  his  hopes  and  fears. 

11.  Every  breath  was  hushed,  and  every  heart  in  that  old 
ship  beat  painfully.  The  boat  was  yet  some  distance  fi-om 
the  boys,  while  the  horrid  sea-monster  was  fearfully  near. 
Suddenly  the  air  was  rent  by  the  roar  of  the  heavy  gun, 
and,  as  the  old  man  knew  his  shot  was  gone,  he  sank  back 
upon  the  hatch,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  as  if 
afraid  to  see  the  result  of  his  own  efforts;  for,  if  he  had 
failed,  he  knew  that  his  boy  was  lost. 

12.  For  a  moment  after  the  report  of  the  gun  had  died 
away  upon  the  air,  there  was  an  unbroken  silence;  but,  as 
the  dense  smoke  arose  from  the  surface  of  the  water,  there 
was,  at  first,  a  low  murmur  breaking  from  the  lips  of  the 
men,--that  murmur  grew  louder  and  stronger,  till  it  swelled 
to  a  joyous,  deafening  shout.  The  old  gunner  sprang  to  his 
feet,  and  gazed  off  on  the  water,  and  the  first  thing  that  met 
his  view,  was  the  huge  carcass  of  the  shark,  floating  on  his 
back — a,  mangled,  lifeless  mass. 

13.  In  a  few  moments,  the  boat  reached  the  daring  swim- 
mers, and,  greatly  frightened,  they  were  brought  o^  board. 
The  old  man  clasped  his  boy  in  his  arms,  and  then,  over- 
come by  the  powerful  excitement,  he  leaned  upon  a  gun  fop 
support.  I  have  seen  men  in  all  the  phases  of  excitement 
and  suspense,  but  never  have  I  seen  three  human  beings 
more  overcome  by  thrilling  emotions,  that  on  that  startling 
moment  when  they  first  knew  the  effect  of  our  gunner's  shot. 
Questions.—!.  Where  is  the  town  of  Tangier?  2.  What  order  had  been 
given  by  the  captain  of  the  vessel?  3.  Who  seemed  most  to  enjoy  the 
sport  ?  4.  What  is  said  of  the  old  gunner  ?  5.  What  did  he  do  ?  G.  What 
effect  did  his  shot  produce?     t.  Describe  the  closing  scene. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  105 

LESSON    XXIV. 

DiS  Gui$E',  concealment.  J  Sal'  a  ry,  wages ;    allowance    for 

Wat'  laid,  beset  by  the  way.  j       services. 

Threat'  en  ed,  declared  the  inten-     In  volv'  ixg,  entangling. 

Incline',  dispose.  [tion.      Be  wil' der  ed,  puzzled ;  perplexed. 

Ruf'fian$,  robbers;  murderers.  Log' ic,  reasoning. 

Dis  trie'  ute,  divide ;  apportion.  Sage,  wise  man. 

Treas' UR  Y,  place  for  keeping  money.!  Ful  fill' ing,  performing. 

Alm$,  gifts ;  donations.  B  va'  sign,  departure  from  truth. 

Mi' $ER  ly,  covetous;  niggardly.  ]  Deceit',  deception;  fraud. 

THE    TRUTHFUL    KING. 

1.  A  CERTAIN  Persian  king,  while  traveling  in  disguise, 
with  but  few  attendants^  was  waylaid  by  robbers,  who 
threatened  to  take  not  only  his  goods,  but  his  life. 

2.  Feeling  himself  beyond  the  reach  of  human  aid,  he 
inwardly  made  a  vow,  that  if  God  would  incline  the  hearts 
of  these  ruffians  to  mercy,  and  restore  him  in  safety  to  his 
family  and  people,  he  would  distribute  all  the  money  then 
in  his  treasury,  in  alms  to  the  needy  of  his  realm. 

3.  The  robbers,  from  some  unknown  cause,  liberated  him, 
and  he  soon  reached  home  in  safety,  having  sustained  no 
injury,  save  the  loss  of  the  small  purse  of  gold  that  he  had 
carried  in  his  girdle.- 

4.  Desirous  of  keeping  the  vow  he  had  made,  he  sum- 
moned his  officers,  and  commanded  them  to  make  immediate 
distribution  to  the  poor,  of  all  that  the  treasury  contained, 
at  the  time  of  his  return. 

5.  But  his  officers,  more  miserly  than  himself,  and,  fear- 
ful that  they  might  fall  short  in  their  salaries  and  pensions, 
began  to  urge  upon  the  monarch  the  folly  of  keeping  this 
rash  vow,  and  the  danger  of  thus  involving  himself  and  his 
kingdom  in  difficulties. 

4  U  6* 


1QQ  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

6.  Finding  he  still  remained  firm,  they  took  other  grounds, 
and  plausibly  argued  that  the  troops  and  other  officials 
needed  aid  as  well  as  the  poor  ;  and,  as  by  the  words  of  his 
vow,  he  had  bound  himself  to  distribute  the  contents  of  the 
treasury  to  those  who  had  claim  to  relief,  the  public  servants 
certainly  came  within  the  required  limits. 

7.  Bewildered  by  their  false  logic,  and  sincerely  desirous 
of  doing  right,  he  appealed  to  a  certain  sage,  who  dwelt  near 
the  royal  palace,  and  determined  to  abide  by  his  decision. 

8.  The  sage,  after  hearing  the  case,  only  asked  the  follow- 
ing, simple  question  :  "Of  whom  were  you  thinking  when 
you  made  the  vow, — the  poor,  or  the  public  servants?"  The 
monarch  replied,  ''  Of  the  poor."  "  Then,"  answered  the 
sage,  "it  is  to  the  poor  you  are  bound  to  distribute  these 
funds  ;  for  you  are  not  rea//y  fulfilling  your  vow,  unless 
you  do  that  which  you  intended  to  do  when  it  was  made." 
The  king  was  satisfied  that  this  was  the  right  decision,  and 
did  as  the  sage  advised. 

9.  Let  the  young  bear  in  mind  that  God  is  a  being  of 
truth,  requiring  truth  in  the  inward  heart ;  and,  if  they 
w^ould  have  His  approval,  and  that  of  their  own  consciences, 
they  must  avoid  not  only  the  outivard  appearance  of  false- 
hood, but  the  slightest  evasion  or  deceit ;  and  when  promises 
have  been  made,  fulfill  not  only  the  leHer,  but  the  spirit  of 
that  which  they  agreed  to  perform. 

10.  Beware  of  the  first  and  slightest  departure  from  truth, 
of  the  least  endeavor  to  deceive,  and  even  of  the  desire  to 
have  others  believe  what  is  not  so.  Let  your  motto  be, 
"  The  truth ^  the  whole  truths  and  nothing  hut  the  truths 

Questions. — 1.  "What  happened  to  a  certain  Persian  king?  2.  What 
vow  did  he  then  make?  3.  What  objection  did  his  officers  make  to  this? 
4.  What  did  the  king  then  do  ?  5.  What  was  the  sage's  decision  ?  6. 
What  motto  ought  you  to  adopt  ?  "7.  What  rule  for  spelling  the  word  travel- 
ing with  one  li    See  Sanders  &  McElligott's  Analysis,  page  13,  Rule  10. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  107 

LESSON   XXV. 

Ent!c'e$,  allures;  leads  astray.        ^  Fore  go',  give  up;  renounce. 
Pre'  text,  pretense ;   false  reason.     }  Mam'  mon,  god  of  wealth  ;  riches. 
Pro  fane',  pollute  ;   defile.  In  dig'  nant,  with  anger ;  disdain- 

Temp  ta'  tion,    allurement.  Lu'  ore,  -  gain ;  profit.  [fully. 

In'  ly,   within  ;   in  the  heart.  Em  pri$e',  enterprise  ;  undertaking. 

Db  clare$,   says ;    asserts.  Sure'  ty,  security. 

Chafe,  vex;    provoke.  ,  0  ver  throw',  subvert ;  destroy. 

Mal'  ice,  hatred ;    malevolence.  Con  tempt',   scorn ;  disdain. 

Av'  A  rice,  excessive  love  of  money.?  Sor'  cer  ess,  enchantress. 
Ex  pel',  (ex,  out;  pel,  to  drive,)  drive  out;    banish. 
Re  $ist',  (re,  again ;  sist,  to  stand,)  stand  again ;  hence,  to  withstand. 
See  Sanders  and  McElligott's  Analysis,  page  90,  Ex.  113 ;  also,  page 
110,  Ex.  142. 

WHEN    SHALL    I    A  IS  S  W  E  R    N  0  ? 

J.  N.  McElligott. 

1.  When  Falsehood  fair  entices  thee 

Against  the  truth  to  go, 
No  matter  what  the  pretext  be. 
Be  thy  firm  answer, — No  ! 

2.  When  Rashness  would  thy  tongue  profane 

With  language  vile  and  low, 
0,  make  the  gross  temptation  vain, 
By  answering  inly, — No  ! 

3.  When  Pride  the  silly  wish  declares. 

That  thou  should'st  fashion  know, 
And  lifts  thy  head  with  empty  airs, 
Be  wise,  and  answer, — No  ! 

4.  When  Envy  would  thy  spirit  chafe, 

That  others  prosper  so, 
On  calm  contentment  resting  safe, 
Expel  her  with  a — No  ! 


JOS 


SANDERS'    UNIOJSf    SERIES. 

6.  Wben  Malice  foul,  or  deadly  Hate, 
Would  turn  thee  on  a  foe, 
And  dark,  revengeful  thirst  create, 
In  horror  answer, — No  ! 

6.  When  sluggish  Sleep,  with  folded  arms, 

Would  make  thee  health  forego, 
(")  Rise  up  at  once,  resist  her  charms ; 
Act  out  the  answer, — No ! 

7.  When  Avarice  would,  with  heartless  speed, 

Shut  out  the  sight  of  woe, 
And  whisper  joy  from  Mammon's  greed, 
Indignant  answer, — No  ! 

8.  When  filthy  Lucre  lifts  her  hand, 

Ungodly  gains  to  show, 
Though  she  should  promise  all  the  land. 
Be  thy  prompt  answer, — No  I 

9.  When  greedy  Gain,  or  rash  Emprise, 

Would  have  thee  surety  go, 
Keep  Wisdom's  words*  before  thine  eyes. 
And  firmly  answer, — No  ! 

10.  When  mad  Ambition  would  seduce 

The  right  to  overthrow, 
And  turn  the  selfish  passions  loose, 
In  mercy  answer, — No  ! 

11.  When  foul  Contempt  of  Holy  Writ 

Would  in  thy  bosom  sow 
The  wish  to  be  where  scorners  sit,f 
Let  Conscience  answer,  — No  ! 

*  Prov.,  11th  Cliap.,  15th. verso.  f  1st  Psalm,  1st  verse. 


NUMBER    FOUR. 


109 


12.  When  Sin,  indeed,  whate'er  her  stjle, 
Would  have  thee  with  her  go, 
Stay  not  to  hear  the  Sorceress  vile, 
But  leave  her  with  a— No  ! 

LESSON    XXVI. 

Pe  ru$e',  read ;  study.  j  Ru'  by,  precious  stone. 

Al  lot'  ted,  assigned.  Pup'  pet,  little  image. 

Me  rid'  I  AN,  noon  ;  mid-day.  De  ter'  mine,  decide ;  find  out. 

Gen'  u  ine,  true  ;  real.  Er'  mine,  fine  fur — (of  the  ermine.) 

Art'  ful,  cunning ;  crafty,     [feited.  Cap'  tor,  one  who  takes  a  prize. 

Mim'  ick  ED,    pretended  ;    counter-  Scep'  ter$,  emblems  of  authority. 

Pre  $ide',  have  sway  or  rule.  {  Cha'  ry,  careful ;  wary. 

De  mer'  it,  ill-desert ;  defect.  ^  Mys'  tic,  secret ;  mysterious. 

"We  have  seldom  seen  any  thing  so  full  of  wit,  truth,  and  practical  wis- 
dom, as  this  poem  inscribed 

TO  MASTERS  ROBERT  AND  JOHN. 

Davis. 

1.  Take  this  book,  mj  boys, 

Earnestly  peruse  it ; 
Much  of   after  lies 

In  the  way  ye  use  it: 
Keep  it  neat  and  clean ; 

For,  remember,   in  it. 
Every  stain  that's   seen, 

Marks    a   thoughtless   minute.  * 

2.  Life  is  like  a  book, 

Time  is  like  a  printer, 
Darting  now  his  look 

Where  has  gloomed  no  winter. 


IIQ  SAlSfDERS'    UHION    SERIES, 

Thus  he'll  look,  and  on, 
Till  each  page  allotted, 

Robert,  thee  and  John, 
Printed  be  or  blotted. 


3.  Youth's  a  sunny  beam, 

Dancing  o'er  a  river, 
With  a  flashing  gleam, 

Then  away  forever. 
Use  it  while  ye  may. 

Not  in  childish  mourning,- 
Not  in  childish  play. 

But  in  useful  learning. 


4.  As  your  years  attain 

Life's  meridian  brightness, 
Hourly  seek  and  gain 

Genuine  politeness  : 
This  lives  not  in  forms. 

As  too  many  teach  us,— 
Not  in  open  arms, 

Not  in  silken  speeches, 


5.  Not  in  haughty  eye, 

Not  in  artful  dealing, 
Not  within  the  sigh 

Of  a  mimicked  feeling: 
But  its  lights  preside 

Rich  in  nature's  splendor, 
Over  honest  pride. 

Gentleness  and  candor. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  H-^ 

6.  Slight  ye  not  the  soul 

For  the  frame's  demerit ; 
Oft  a  shattered  bowl 

Holds  a   mighty  spirit: 
Never  search  a  breast 

By  thy  ruby's  glances; 
Pomp's  a  puppet  guest, 

Danced  by  circumstances. 

7.  What  is  good  and  great, 

Sense  can  soon  determine; 
Prize  it  though  ye  meet, 

Or  in  rags  or  ermine. 
Fortune's  truly  blind; 

Fools  may  be  her  captors; 
But  the  wealth  of  mind 

Stands  above  their  scepters. 

8.  Value  not  the  lips 

Swiftest  kept  in  motion ; 
Fleetly-sailing  ships 

Draw  no  depth  of  ocean : 
Snatch  the  chary  gleam. 

From  the  cautious  knowing; 
For  the  deepest  stream 

Scarcely  lisps  'tis  flowing. 

9.  Cull  from  bad  and  good 

Every  seeming  flower, 
Store  it  up  as  food 

For  some  hungry  hour: 


112  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Press  its  every   leaf, 

And  remember,   Johnnj, 
Even  weeds  the  chief 

May  have  drops  of  honej. 

10.  Pomp  and  power  alone 

Never  make  a  blessing; 
Seek  not  e'en  a  throne 

By  one  wretch  distressing. 
Better  toil  a  slave 

For  the  blood-earned   penny. 
Than  be  rich,   and  have 

A  curse  on  every  guinea. 

11.  Think,  my  gentle  boys, 

Every  man  a  brother  ! 
Thafs  where  hojior  lies, 

Nay,   but  greatness  rather: 
One's  the  mystic   whole, 

Lordly  flesh  won't  know  it; 
But  the  kingly   soul. 

Sees  but  vice  below  it. 

12.  Robert,   thoughts  like  these. 

Store  you  more  than  money ; 
Read  them   not  to   please. 

But  to  practice,    Johnny. 
Artless  though  their  dress, 

As  an  infant's  dimple. 
Truth  is  none   the  less 

For  being  truly  simple. 

Questions. — 1.  What  did  the  writer  tell  Robert  and  John  to  do  with  tbi^ 
book,  given  them  ?     2.  What  use  did  he  tell  them  to  make  of  Youth  ? 


X 


NUMBER    FOUR 


113 


LESSON    XXVII. 


Av  A  Ri"  ciOUS,  greedy  after  gain. 
In'  ti  mate,  close  in  friendship. 
Ea'  ger  NESS,  ardent  desire. 
Fru  gal'  I  TY,  wise  economy. 
Ac  QUI  si"  tion$,  gains. 
Af'  flu  ence,  great  wealth. 
Sue  CEs'  SION,  regular  order. 
Moil'  ing,  drudging;  laboring. 
Dis  CON  tin'  u  ED,  ceased. 


As  si  du'  i  ty,  untiring  diligence. 
Dis  gust'  ED,  greatly  dissatisfied. 
In  dulg'  ED,  gratified. 
Mon'  strous,  very  large. 
Sue  ceed'  ing,  following. 
Mat'  took,  pick-ax. 
Un  der  mine',  dig  under. 
0'  MEN,  sign ;  token. 
Im  ag'  in  ED,  conceived. 


WHAMG,    THE    MILLER* 

Goldsmith. 

1.  Whang,  the  miller,  was  naturally  avaricious ;  nobody 
loved  money  better  than  he,  or  more  respected  those  that  had 
it.  When  people  would  talk  of  a  rich  man  in  company, 
Whang  would  say,  "/  know  him  very  well:  he  and  /  have 
been  very  long  acquainted  ;  Jie  and  /  are  intimate." 

2.  But,  if  a  poor  man  was  mentioned,  he  had  not  the 
least  knowledge  of  the  man ;  he  might  be  very  well,  for  aught 
he  knew ;  but  he  was  not  fond  of  making  many  acquaint- 
ances, and  loved  to  choose  his  company. 

3.  Whang,  however,  with  all  his  eagerness  for  riches,  was 
poor.  He  had  nothing  but  the  profits  of  his  mill  to  support 
him ;  but,  though  these  were  small,  they  were  certain  :  while 
it  stood  and  went  he  was  sure  of  eating ;  and  his  frugality 
was  such,  that  he,  every  day,  laid  some  money  by ;  which 
he  would,  at  intervals^  count  and  contemplate  with  much 
satisfaction. 

4.  Yet  still  his  acquisitions  were  not  equal  to  his  desires ; 
he  only  found  himself  above  want :  whereas  he  desired  to  be 
possessed  of  afflaence.  One  day,  as  he  was  indulging  these 
wishes,  he  was  informed  that  a  neighbor  of  his  had  found  a 


114  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

pan  of  money  under  ground,   having   dreamed  of  it  three 
nights  in  succession. 

5.  These  tidings  were  daggers  to  the  heart  of  poor  Whang. 
"Here  am  I/'  said  he,  "toiling  and  moiling  from  morning 
to  night  for  a  few  paltry  farthings,  while  neighbor  Thanks 
only  goes  quietly  to  bed,  and  dreams  himself  into  thousands' 
before  morning.  Oh,  that  I  could  dream  like  him !  With 
what  pleasure  would  I  dig  round  the  pan !  How  slily  would 
I  carry  it  home  !  Not  even  my  wife  should  see  me.  And 
then,  oh  the  pleasure  of  thrusting  one's  hands  into  a  heap  of 
gold  up  to  the  elbows !" 

6.  Such  reflections  only  served  to  make  the  miller  un- 
happy. He  discontinued  his  former  assiduity  ;  he  w^as  quite 
disgusted  with  small  gains  ;  and  Ids  customers  began  to  for- 
sake him.  Every  day  be  repeated  the  wish,  and  every  night 
laid  himself  down  in  order  to  dream.  ^Fortune,  that  was  for 
a  long  time  unkind,  at  last,  however,  seemed  to  smile  upon 
his  distress,  and  indulged  him  with  the  wished-for  vision. 

7.  He  dreamed  that  under  a  certain  part  of  the  foundation 
of  his  mill,  there  was  concealed  a  monstrous  pan  of  gold  and 
diamonds,  buried  deep  in  the  ground,  and  covered  with  a 
large,  flat  stone.  He  concealed  his  good  luck  from  every 
person,  as  is  usual  in  money-dreams,  in  order  to  have  the 
vision  repeated  the  two  succeeding  nights,  by  which  he 
should  be  certain  of  ^ts  truth.  His  wishes  in  this,  also,  were 
answered;  he  still  dreamed  of  the  same  pan  of  money,  in 
the  very  same  place. 

8.  Now,  therefore,  it  was  past  a  doubt ;  so,  getting  up 
early  the  third  morning,  he  repaired,  alone,  with  a  mattock 
in  his  hand,  to  the  mill,  and  began  to  undermine  that  part 
of  the  wall  to  which  the  vision  directed.  The  first  omen  of 
success  that  he  met  with,  was  a  broken  ring ;  digging  still 
deeper,  he  turned  up  a  house-tile,  quite  new  and  entire. 


IVUMBER    FOUR.  ^15 

9.  At  last,  after  much  digging,  he  came  to  a  broad,  flat 
stone ;  but  then  it  was  so  large,  that  it  was  beyond  his 
strength  to  remove  it.  "TOere,"  cried  he  in  raptures  to 
himself,  ^^ there  it  is!  under  this  stone,  there  is  room  for  a 
very  large  pan  of  diamonds  indeed.  I  must  e'en  go  home 
to  my  wife,  and  tell  her  the  whole  affair,  and  get  her  to  assist 
me  in  turning  it  up."  Away,  therefore,  he  goes,  and  ac- 
quaints his  wife  with  every  circumstance  of  their  good 
fortune. 

10.  Her  raptures,  on  this  occasion,  may  easily  be  imagined ; 
she  flew  round  his  neck,  and  embraced  him  in  an  agony  of 
joy.  But  these  transports,  however,  did  not  allay  their 
eagerness  to  know  the  exact  sum ;  returning,  together,  to 
the  place  where  Whang  had  been  digging,  there  they  found — 
not,  indeed,  the  expected  treasure — but  the  mill,  their  only 
support,  undermined  and  fallen  ! 

Questions. — 1.  Upon  what  was  Whang,  the  miller,  dependent  for  sup- 
port? 2.  Why  was  he  not  satisfied  ?  3.  What  did  he  say  to  himself,  after 
the  information  he  had  received  from  a  neighbor  ?  4.  What  eflfect  had  such 
reflections  upon  him?  5.  What  did  he  dream  three  nights  successively? 
6.  What  did  he  do?     1.  What  was  the  result? 


^^'--^^^^^^'^^^^^ 


LESSON    XXVIII. 

Po  lite'  NESS,  good  manners.  \  Arch'  i  tects,  {ch,  like  yfc,)  builders. 

Ei  del'  I  TY,  faithfulness,  Sa  li'  va,  spittle.  [exude. 

In  cu  ba'  tion,  act  of  hatching  eggs.     Se  crete',  discharge  by  the  glands  ; 
Rec  re  a'  tion,  pastime ;  amusement.     Con"  gre  gate,  collect  together. 
Db  mure'  ly,  gravely;  with  affected      Fledg'  ed,  furnished  with  feathers. 

modesty.  Do  main',  realm ;  kingdom. 

Ap  pre  CI  a'  tion,  estimate.  Ac  com  mo  da'  tion$,  conveniences. 

Lithe,  nimble;  flexible.  |  Mi' grate,  remove;  travel. 

Ex'  it,  departure;  going  out.  1  Sphere,  {ph  like/)  circuit  of  action. 


116  '  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

CHIMMEY-SWALLOWS* 

IIenky  Waed  Beecitee. 

1.  Every  one  knows,  who  lives  in  the  country,  what  a 
chimney-swallow  is.  They  are  among  the  birds  that  seem 
to  love  the  neighborhood  of  man.  Many  birds  there  are, 
that  nestle  confidingly  in  the  protection  of  their  superiors, 
and  are  seldom  found  nesting  or  breeding  far  from  human 
habitations. 

2.  The  wren  builds  close  to  your  door.  Sparrows  and 
robins,  if  well  treated,  Avill  make  their  nests  right  under 
your  window,  in  some  favorite  tree,  and  will  teach  you,  if 
you  choose  to  go  into  the  business,  how  to  build  birds'  nests. 

3.  A  great  deal  of  politeness  and  fidelity  may  be  learned. 
The  female  bird  is  waited  upon,  fed,  cheered  with  singing, 
during  her  incubation,  in  a  manner  that  might  give  lessons 
to  the  household.  Nay,  w^hen  she  needs  exercise  and  recre- 
ation, her  husband  very  demurely  takes  her  place,  and  keeps 
the  eggs  warm  in  the  most  gentlemanly  way. 

4.  Barn-swallows  have  a  very  sensible  appreciation  of 
the  pleasures  of  an  ample  barn.  A  barn  might  not  be  found 
quite  the  thing  to  live  in,  (although  we  have  seen  many  a 
place  where  we  would  take  the  barn  sooner  than  the  house,) 
but  it  is  one  of  the  most  charming  places  in  a  summer  day 
to  lounge,  read,  or  nap  in. 

5.  And,  as  you  lie  on  your  back  upon  the  sweet-scented 
hay-mow,  or  upon  clean  straw  thrown  down  on  the  great 
floor,  reading  books  of  natui-al  history,  it  is  very  pleasant  to 
see  the  flitting  swallows  glance  in  and  out,  or  course  about 
under  the  roof,  with  motion  so  lithe  and  rapid  as  to  seem 
more  like  the  glancing  of  shadows  than  the  winging  of 
birds.  Their  mud-nests  are  clean,  if  they  are  made  of 
dirt ;  and  you  would  never  dream,  from  their  feathers,  what 
sort  of  a  house  they  lived  in. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  •  H^ 

6.  But,  it  was  of  chimne?j- swallows  lb  at  we  begm  to 
write ;  and  they  are  just  now  roaring  in  the  little,  stubbed 
chimney  behind  us,  to  remind  us  of  our  duty.  Every  even- 
ing we  hear  them ;  for  a  nest  of  young  ones  brings  the 
parents  in  with  food,  early  and  late,  and  every  entrance  or 
exit  is  like  a  distant  roll  of  thunder,  or  like  those  okl- 
fashioned  rumblings  of  high  winds  in  the  chimney,  which 
made  us  children  think  that  all  out-of-doors  was  coming 
down  the  chimney  in  stormy  nights. 

7.  These  little  architects  build  their  simple  nests  upon 
the  sides  of  the  chimney  with  sticks,  which  they  are  said  to 
break  off  from  dead  branches  of  trees,  though  they  might 
more  easily  pick  them  up  already  prepared.  But  they, 
doubtless,  have  their  own  reasons  for  cutting  their  own 
timber.  Then  these  are  glued  to  the  wall  by  a  saliva  which 
they  secrete,  so  that  they  carry  their  mortar  in  their. mouths, 
and  use  their  bills  for  trowels. 

8.  When  the  young  are  ready  to  leave,  the}^  climb  up  the 
chimney  to  the  top,  by  means  of  their  sharp  claws,  aided  by 
their  tail-feathers,  which  are  short,  stiff,  and  at  the  end 
armed  with  sharp  spines.  Two  broods  are  reared  in  a 
season.  From  the  few  which  congregate  in  any  one  neigh- 
borhood, one  would  not  suspect  the  great  numbers  which 
assemble  at  the  end  of  the  season.  Audubon  estimated  that 
ni?ie  thousand  entered  a  large  sycamore-tree,  every  night, 
to  roost,  near  Louisville,  Kentucky. 

9.  Sometimes  the  little  nest  has  been  slighted  in  building, 
or  the  weight  proves  too  great,  and  down  it  comes  into  the 
fire-place,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the  children,  who  are 
all  a-fever  to  hold  in  their  hands  these  clean,  bright-eyed 
little  fellows.  Who  would  suspect  that  they  had  ever  been 
bred  in  such  a  flue  ? 

10.  And   it  was  just  this  thought  that  set  us  to   writ- 


113  SANDERS'    UJilGN    SERIES. 

ing.  Because  a  bird  lives  in  a  chimney,  he  need  not  be 
smutty.  There  is  many  a  fine  feather  that  lives  in  a 
chimney-corner.  Nor  are  birds  the  only  instances.  Many 
men  are  born  in  a  garret,  or  in  a  cellar,  who  fly  out  of  it,  as 
soon  as  fledged,  as  fine  as  any  body.  A  lowly  home  has 
reared  many  high  natures. 

11.  On  these  bare  sticks,  I'ight  against  the  bricks,  in  this 
smoky  flue,  the  eggs  are  laid,  the  brooding  goes  on,  the 
young  are  hatched,  fed,  grown.  But  then  comes  the  day 
when  they  spread  the  wing,  and  the  whole  heaven  is  theirs ! 
From  morning  to  night,  they  can  not  touch  the  bounds  of 
their  liberty ! 

12.  And,  in  like  manner,  it  is  with  the  human  soul  that 
has  learned  to  know  its  liberty.  Born  in  a  body,  pent  up, 
and  cramped,  it  seems  imprisoned  in  a  mere  smoky  flue  .for 
passions.  But,  when  once  faith  has  taught  the  soul  that  it 
has  wings,  then  it  begins  to  fly ;  and  flying,  finds  that  all 
God's  domain  is  its  liberty. 

13.  And,  as  the  swallow  that  comes  back  to  roost  in  its 
hard  hole  at  night,  is  quite  content,  so  that  the  morning  gives 
it  again  all  the  bright  heavens  for  its  soaring-ground,  so  may 
men,  close-quartered  and  cramped  in  bodily  accommodations, 
be  quite  patient  of  their  narrow  bounds,  for  their  thoughts 
may  fly  out  every  day  gloriously. 

14.  And  as,  in  autumn,  these  children  of  the  chimney 
gather  in  flocks,  and  fly  away  to  heavens  without  a  winter, 
so  men  shall  find  a  day  when  they,  too,  shall  migrate  ;  an(1, 
rising  into  a  higher  sphere,  without  storm  or  winter,  shall 
remember  the  troubles  of  this  mortal  life,  as  birds  in  Florida 
may  be  supposed  to  remember  the  northern  chills,  which 
drove  them  forth  to  a  fairer  clime. 

Questions. — 1.  What  birds  seem  to  love  the  neighborhood  of  man? 
2.  In  what  respects  may  men  be  like  birds  ? 


NUMBER    t'OUR.  119 


LESSON   XXIX. 

The  first  part  of  each  verse,  or  that  portion  read  by  the  First  Voice,  should 
be  expressed  in  a  slow  and  despondent  tone  of  voice :  the  second  part,  or 
that  read  by  the  Second  Voice,  should  be  expressed  in  a  more  sprightly  and 
cheerful  manner. 

THE    DOUBTING    HEART. 

Adklaide  a.  Proctkk. 
FIRST    VOICE. 

1.  Where  are  the  swallows  fled  ? 
Frozen  and  dead, 
Perchance,  upon  some  bleak  and  stormy  shore. 

SECOND    VOICE. 

0  doubting  heart ! 
Far  over  purple  seas, 
The  J  wait,  in  sunnj  ease, 
The  balmy,  southern  breeze. 
To  bring  them  to  their  northern  homes  once  more. 


FIRST   VOICE. 


2.  Why  must  the  flowers  die  ? 
Poisoned  they  lie 
In  the  cold  tomb,  heedless  of  tears  or  rain. 

SECOND   VOICE. 

0  doubting  heart ! 
They  only  sleep  below 
The  soft,  white,  ermine  snow, 
While  winter  winds  shall  blow. 
To  breathe  and  smile  upon  you  soon  again. 


X20  SANDERS'     UNION    SERIES 


FIRST    VOICE. 


3.  The  sun  has  hid  its  rays 
These  many  days  ; 
Will  dreary  hours  never  leave  the  earth  ? 


SECOND    VOICE. 


0  doubting  heart ! 
The  stormy  clouds  on  high 
Vail  the  same  sunny  sky, 
That  soon,  (for  Spring  is  nigh,) 
Shall  wake  the  Summer  into  golden  mirth. 


FIRST    VOICE. 


4.  Fair  Hope  is  dead,  and  light 
Is  quenched  in  night. 
What  sound  can  break  the  silence  of  despair  ? 

SECOND    VOICE. 

0  doubting  heart ! 
The  sky  is  overcast, 
Yet  stars  shall  rise  at  last, 
Brighter  for  darkness  past, 
And  angels'  silver  voices  stir  the  air. 


LESSON    XXX. 

Deck'  ed,  dressed ;  arrayed.  \  Crisp'  er,  more  brittle. 

Trail'  ing,  hanging  down ;  follow-  Treas'  ure$,  wealth  ;  riches. 

ing  one  after  another.  Mer' it,  desert;  goodness. 

Un  fail'  ing,   constant;  continually.  ?  In  her'  it,  occupy;  possess. 

Un  pli'  ant,  stiff;  unbending,  \  Mor'  sel,  bit ;  small  piece. 

De  fi'  ant,  daring;  bidding  defiance.  \  Wail'  ing,  loudly  lamenting. 

Ves'  per,  evening.  \  Rail'  ing,  clamoring. 


NUMBER    FOUR. 


121 


THE    COMING    OF 


1.  Autumn's  sighing, 
Moaning,  dying, 
Clouds  are  fljing 

On  like  steeds ; 
While  their  shadows 
O'er  the  meadows, 
Walk  like  widows 

Decked  in  weeds. 

2.  Red  leaves  trailing, 
Fall  unfailing. 
Dropping,  sailing, 

From  the  wood, 
That,  unpliant. 
Stands  defiant, 
Like  a  giant 

Dropping  blood. 

3.  Winds  are  swelling 
Round  our  dwelling, 
All  day  telling 

Us  their  woe ; 
And,  at  vesper, 
Frosts  grow"  crisper, 
As  they  whisper 

Of  the  snow. 

4.  From  th'  unseen  land. 
Frozen  inland, 
Down  from  Greenland, 

Winter  glides, 
4U 


WINTER* 

T.  B.  Head. 

Shedding  lightness 
Like  the  brightness 
When  moon- whiteness 
Fills  the  tides. 

5.  Now  bright  pleasure's 
Sparkling  measures 
With  rare  treasures 

Overflow ! 
With  this  gladness 
Comes  what  sadness  I 
Oh,  what  madness, 

Oh,  what  woe! 

6.  Even  merit 
May  inherit 
Some  bare  garret. 

Or  the  ground; 
Or,  a  worse  ill, 
Beg  a  morsel 
At  some  door-sill, 

Like  a  hound  . 

T.  Storms  are  trailing, 
Winds  are  wailing, 
Howling,  railing, 

At  each  door. 
'Midst  this  trailing. 
Howling,  railing, 
List  the  w^ailing 

Of  the  poor ! 


122  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Questions.—!.  What  is  the  first  sign  of  the  coming  of  winter?  2.  What, 
the  second  ?  3.  What,  the  third  ?  4.  What  are  some  of  the  pleasures  of 
winter  ?  5.  What  is  said  of  the  poor  in  winter?  6.  What  is  the  use  of 
the  apostrophes  in  the  words  autumn's,  o'er,  pleasure's,  'midst,  &c.  ? 


LESSON    XXXI. 

Live'  long,  whole ;  entire.  )  Wretch'  ed  ness,  distress ;  dcstitu^ 

Eave$,  edges  of  a  roof.  \  Of  fense',  fault ;  crime.  [tion. 

E'  YEN  TIDE,  evening.  ?  Pen'  i  tence,  repentance ;  contrition. 
Striv'  en,  struggled ;  contended.  El'  o  quent  ly,  forcibly ;   persua- 

Re  Liiiv'  ED,  mitigated ;  alleviated.  \       sively. 

CHILD    TIRED    OF    PLAY* 

N.  P.  Willis. 

1.  Tired  of  play^ !  tired  of  play^ ! 

What  bast  thou  done  this  livelong  day^  ? 

The  birds  are  silent',  and  so  is  the  bee^ ; 

The  sun  is  creepirig  up  steeple  and  tree^ ; 

The  doves  have  flown  to  the  sheltering  eaves', 

And  the  nests  are  dark  with  the  drooping  leaves' ; 

Twilight  gathers',  and  day  is  done\— *■ 

How  hast  thou  spent  it^, — restless  one'? 

2.  Playing'  ?     But  what  hast  thou  done  beside,    - 
To  tell  thy  mother  at  eventide'  ? 

What  promise  of  morn  is  left  unbroken'  ? 
What  kind  word  to  thy  playmates  spoken'  ? 
Whom  hast  thou  pitied,  and  whom  forgiven'? 
How  with  thy  faults  has  duty  striven'  ? 
What  hast  thou  learned  by  field  and  hill, 
By  greenwood  path,  and  by  singing  rill'  ? 


NUMBER    FOUIl.  128 

come  an  eve  to  a  longer  day', 
That  will  find  thee  tired\ — but  not  of  play' ! 
And  thou  wilt  lean,  as  thou  leanest  now, 
With  drooping  limbs,  and  aching  brow. 
And  wish  the  shadows  would  faster  creep, 
And  long  to  go  to  thy  quiet  sleep. 
Well  were  it  then,  if  thine  aching  brow 
Were  as  free  from  sin  and  shame  as  now ! 
Well  for  tliee,  if  thy  lip  could  tell 
A  tale  like  this,  of  a  day  spent  well. 


4.  If  thine  open  hand  hath  relieved  distress', — 
If  thy  pity  hath  sprung  to  wretchedness', — • 
If  thou  hast  forgiven  the  sore  oifense', 
And  humbled  thy  heart  with  penitence', — 
If  Nature's  voices  have  spoken  to  thee 
With  her  holy  meanings  eloquently', — ■ 
If  every  creature  hath  won  thy  love'. 
From  the  creeping  worm  to  the  brooding  dove', — 
If  never^a  sad,  low-spoken  word 
Hath  plead  with  thy  human  heart  unheard', — 
Theii"^  when  the  night  steals  on,  as  now. 
It  will  bring  relief  to  thine  aching  brow, 
And,  with  joy  and  peace  at  the  thought  of  rest, 
Thou  wilt  sink  to  sleep  on  thy  mother's  breast. 

Questions. — 1.  What  had  the  child  been  doing  ?  2.  What  questions  did 
tho  mother  ask?  3.  What  did  she  tell  the  child  would  come?  4.  What  is 
meant  by  eve  to  a  longer  daij,  third  verse  ?  5.  What,  by  quiet  sleep,  same 
verse  ?  6.  What  ought  we  to  do  m  life,  in  order  to  have  a  joyful  and  peace- 
ful death  ?  Y.  What  rule  for  the  rising  inflection  on  restless  one,  first  verse  ? 
See  page  32,  Note  I.  8.  What  rule  for  the  falling  inflection  on  playing, 
second  verse  ?  See  page  29,  Rule  TI.  9.  What  rule  for  the  rising  inflec- 
tions in  the  fourth  verse  ?     Rule  Y.,  page  31. 


124  SASDEHS'    USIOK    SERIES. 

LESSON   XXXII. 

North-east' ER$,  north-east  winds,  j  Tort' ure,  anguish  of  spirit,  [cloned. 
Ex  H4UST'  ED,  {x  like  gz,)  tired  out.  De  $ert'  ed,  relinquished  ;  aban- 
Yig'  I  LANT,  watchful.  Ra  pib'  I  TY,  speed ;  swiftness. 

De  tect'  ED,  discovered.  \  En  vel'  op  ed,  inclosed  ;  covered. 

Lee'  ward,  pertaining  to  the  part  to-  \  Gen'  er  a  ted,  produced. 

ward  which  the  wind  blows.  \  Leth'  ar  gy,  drowsiness ;  dullness. 

Re  ced'ing,  retiring;  passing  away.  ^  Res'  cue,  deliverance. 
Brill' IAN  CY,  brightness;  luster.         In  ev' i  ta  bly,   surely;   certain!}'-. 
Till'  er,  bar  used  to  turn  the  rudder.  \  E  spy'  ing,   seeing ;    discovering. 

Con'  TACT,  (con,  together;  tact,  touch,)  a  touching  together;  close  union. 
/ 

THE    RESCUE* 

By  a  Sea  Captain, 

1  On  a  bright  moonlight  night,  in  the  month  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1831,  wlien  it  was  intensely  cold,  the  little  brig 
^vhich  I  commanded,  lay  quietly  at  her  anchors,  inside  of 
Sandy  Hook.  We  had  a  hard  time  of  it,  beating  about  for 
eleven  days  off  this  coast,  with  cutting  north-easters  blowing, 
and  snow  and  sleet  falling  for  the  most  part  of  that  time. 

2. 'Forward,  the  vessel  was  thickly  coated  with  ice,  and 
it  was  hard  work  to  handle  her ;  as  the  rigging  and  sails 
Avere  stiff,  and  yielded  only  when  the  strength  of  the  men 
was  exerted  to  the  utmost.  When  we,  at  length,  made  the 
port,  all  hands  were  worn  down  and  exhausted. 

3.  "A  bitter,  cold  night,  Mr.  Larkin,"  I  said  to  my  mate, 
as  I  tarried  for  a  short  time  upon  deck.  The  worthy  down- 
easter  buttoned  his  coat  more  tightly  around  him,  and,  look- 
ing up  to  the  moon,  replied,  "It's  a  whistler,  captain ;  and 
nothing  can  live  comfortably  out  of  blankets  to-night." 

4.  "The  tide  is  running  out  swift  and  strong,  and  it  will 
be  well  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out  for  this  floating  ice,  Mr. 
Larkin,"  said  I,  as  I  turned  to  go  below.  ''Ay,  ay,  sir," 
responded  the  faithful  mate. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  ;{ 25 

5.  About  two  hours  afterward,  I  was  aroused  from  a  sound 
sleep  bj  the  vigilant  officer.  "Excuse  me  for  disturbing 
you,  captain,"  said  he,  as  he  detected  an  expression  of  vexa- 
tion in  my  face,  "but  I  wish  you  would  turn  out,  and  come 
on  deck  as  soon  as  possible." 

6.  "  What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Larkin,"  said  I.  "  Why,  sir, 
I  have  been  watching  a  large  cake  of  ice,  w^iich  swept  by  at 
a  distance,  a  moment  ago  ;  and  I  saw  Something  black  upon 
it, — something  that  I  thought  moved.  The  moon  is  under  a 
Cioud,  and  I  could  not  see  distinctly ;  but  I  believe  there  is 
a  child  floating  out  to  the  sea,  this  freezing  night,  on  that 
cake  of  ice." 

7.  We  were  on  deck  before  either  spoke  another  word. 
The  mate  pointed  out,  with  no  little  difiioulty,  the  cake  of 
ice  floating  ofi"  to  the  leeward,  with  its  white,  glittering  sur- 
face broken  by  a  black  spot.  "  Get  the  glass,  Mr.  Larkin," 
said  I;  "the  moon  will  be  out  of  that  cloud  in  a  moment, 
and  then  we  can  see  distinctly." 

8.  I  kept  my  eye  upon  the  receding  mass  of  ice,  while  tlio 
moon  was  slowly  working  her  way  through  a  heavy  bank  of 
clouds.  The  mate  stood  by  me  w^ith  the  glass  ;  and  w^hen  the 
full  light  fell  upon  the  water,  with  a  brilliancy  only  known 
in  our  northern  latitudes,  I  put  the  glass  to  my  eye.  One 
glance  was  enough. 

9.  (")  ^^  Forward^  there  T"*  I  hailed  at  the  top  of  my 
voice ;  and,  with  one  bound,  I  reached  the  main  hatch,  and 
began  to  clear  away  the  little  cutter,  which  was  stowed  in 
the  ship's  yawl.  Mr.  Larkin  had  taken  the  glass  to  look 
for  himself  "  There  are  two  children  on  that  cake  of 
ice!'''  he  exclaimed,  as  he  hastened  to  assist  me  in  getting 
out  the  boat. 

10.  The  men  answered  my  hail,  and  walked  quickly  aft. 
In  a  short  space  of  time,  we  launched  the  cutter,  into  which 


126  SANDERS*    U^ION    SERIES. 

Mr.  L:irkin  and  myself  jumped,  followed  by  the  two  men, 
who  took  the  oars.  I  rigged  the  tiller,  and  the  mate  sat 
beside  me  in  the  stern  sheets. 

11.  ^'Do  you  see  that  cake  of  ice,  with  something  black 
upon  it,  my  lads  ?  Put  me  alongside  of  that,  and  I'll  give 
you  a  month's  extra  wages  when  you  are  paid  off/'  said  I  to 
the  men. 

12.  They  bent  to  fheir  oars,  but  their  strokes  were  uneven 
and  feeble ;  for  they  were  worn  out  by  the  hard  duty  of  the 
preceding  fortnight;  and,  though  they  did  their  best,  the 
boat  made  little  more  headway  than  the  tide.  It  was  a  losing 
chase,  and  Mr.  Larkin,  who  was  suffering  torture  as  he  saw 
how  little  w^e  gained,  cried  out,  ''  Pull^  lads!  Ill  double  the 
captain'' s  prize :  two  months'  extra  pay  :  pull,  lads  !  pull 
for  life!' 

13.  A  convulsive  effort  at  the  oars  told  how  willing  the 
men  were  to  obey  ;^  but  the  strength  of  the  strong  man  was 
gone.  One  of  the  poor  fellows  washed  us  twice  in  i-ecover- 
ing  his  oar,  and  then  gave  out ;  and  the  other  was  nearly  as 
far  gone.  Mr.  Larkin  sprang  forward  and  seized  the  de- 
serted oar.  "Lie  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,"  said  he 
to  the  man;  and,  captain,  take  the  other  oar ;  we  must  row 
for  ourselves." 

14.  I  took  the  second  man's  place.  Larkin  had  stripped 
off  his  coat,  and,  as  he  pulled  the  bow,  I  waited  for  the  signal 
stroke.  It  came  gently,  but  firm ;  and  the  next  moment  we 
w^ere  pulling  a  long,  steady  stroke ;  gradually  increasing  in 
rapidity,  until  the  wood  seemed  to  smoke  in  the  row-locks. 
We  kept  time,  each  by  the  long,  deep  breathing  of  the 
other. 

15.  Such  a  pull!  We  bent  forward  until  our  faces  almost 
touched  our  knees  ;  and  then  throwino:  all  our  streno^th  into 
the  backward  movement,  drew  on  the  oar  until  every  inch 


NUMBER    FOUR, 


127 


covered  bj  the  sweep  was  gained.  Thus  we  worked  at  the 
oars  for  fifteen  minutes;  and  it  seemed  to  me  as  many  hours. 
The  sweat  rolled  off  in  great  drops,  and  I  was  enveloped  in  a 
steam  generated  from  mj  own  body. 

16.  '^Are  we  almost  up  to  it,  Mr.  Larkin?"  I  gasped  out. 
^'Almost,  captain,"  said  he;  ''and  don't  give  up!  for  the  love 
of  our  dear  little  ones  at  home;  don^t  give  up^  captain!" 
Tlie  oars  flashed  as  their  blades  turned  up  to  the  moonlight; 
for  the  men  who  plied  them  were  fathers,  and  had  father's 
hearts. 

17.  Suddenly  Mr.  Larkin  ceased  pulling ;  and  my  heart, 
for  a  moment,  almost  stopped  its  beating ;  for  the  terrible 
thought  that  he  had  given  out,  crossed  my  mind.  But  I  was 
re-assured  by  his  voice,  {p)  "Gently,  captain,  gently:  a 
stroke  or  two  more:  there,  that  will  do;"  and  the  next 
moment  Mr.  Larkin  sprang  upon  the  ice.  I  started  up,  and, 
callino:  to  the  men  to  make  fast  the  boat  to  the  ice,  followed 
him. 

18.  We  ran  to  the  dark  spot  in  the  center  of  the  mass, 
and  found  two  little  boys.  The  head  of  the  smaller  was 
resting  in  the  bosom  of  the  larger ;  and  both  were  fast  asleep. 
The  lethargy,  which  would  have  been  fatal,  but  for  the  timely 
rescue,  had  overcome  them. 

19.  Mr.  Larkin  grasped  one  of  the  lads,  cut  off  his  shoes, 
tore  off  his  jacket,  and  then,  loosening  his  own  garments  to 
the  skin,  placed  the  cold  child  in  contact  with  his  own  warm 
body,  carefully  wrapping  his  overcoat  around  him.  I  did  the 
same  with  the  other  child;  and  we  then  returned  to  the 
boat. 

20.  The  children,  as  we  learned  when  we  had  the  delight 
of  restoring  them  to  their  parents,  were  playing  on  the  cake 
of  ice,  which  had  jammed  into  a  bend  of  the  river,  about  ten 
miles  above  New  York.     A  movement  of  the  tide  set  the  ice 


128  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

in  motion,  and  the  little  fellows  were  borne  away,  that  cold 
night,  and  would  have  inevitably  perished,  but  for  Mr. 
Larkin's  espying  them  as  they  were  sweeping  out  to  sea. 

21.  ''How  do  you  feel,  Mr.  Larkin?"  I  said  to  the  mate, 
the  morning  after  this  adventure.  "A  little  stiff  in  the 
arms,  captain,"  the  noble  fellow  replied,  while  the  big  teai-s 
of  grateful  happiness  gathered  in  his  eyes, — "  a  little  stiff  in 
the  arms,  captain,  but  very  easy  here,"  laying  his  hand  on 
the  rough  chest,  in  which  beat  a  true  and  manly  heart. 
My  quaint  down-easter.  He  who  lashes  the  seas  into  fury^ 
and  lets  loose  the  tempest,  will  care  for  thee  I  The  storms 
may  rage  without,  but  in  thy  bosom  peace  and  sunshine 
abide  always. 

Questions. — 1.  Describe  the  condition  of  the  vessel  as  she  laj  at  anchor 
inside  Sandy  Hook.  2.  What  did  the  captain  say  to  Mr.  Larkin,  as  he 
retired  to  rest  ?  3.  Why  did  Mr.  Larkin  wake  up  the  captain  ?  4.  What 
did  they  discover  on  a  cake  of  ice,  floating  out  to  sea  ?  5.  Who  went  to 
then-  rescue  ?  6.  What  did  the  captain  say  to  the  rowers  of  the  boat  ? 
T.  What  did  Mr.  Larkin  say  to  them  ?  8.  Did  they  finally  succeed  in  res- 
cuing the  children  ?  9.  How  came  the  two  boys  to  be  on  that  cake  of  ice  ? 
10.  What  did  Mr.  Larkin  say,  when  the  captain  asked  him  how  he  felt  ? 


—^-^^^^^^m^^^ 


LESSON  XXXIIL 

A  dorn'  ED,  decorated ;  embeUished.  5  Heath,    place  overgrown   with 

Spoil$,  booty;  prey.  Liege,  lord;  sovereign,  [shrubs. 

Ant'  ler$,  branching  horns.  Loy'  al,  true ;  faithful. 

Sus  pend'  ed,  hung ;  attached.  Fe'  al  ty,  loyalty  ;  fidelity. 

Dis  tract'  ed,  disturbed ;  disordered.  Ma'  tron,  married  woman. 

Fu'  ai  tive,  runaway ;  wanderer.       j  Rec  og  niz'  ed,  knew ;  recollected. 

Beset',  hemmed  in;  surrounded.       j  In  vad'  er$,    persons,  invading; 
Tbai'  tor$,  betrayers.                         \      assailants. 


NUMBER  FOUR.  ^OQ 


ROBERT  BRUCE  AMD  THE  SCOTCH  WOMAN* 

Anox. 

1.  Many  years  ago,  an  old  Scotch  woman  sat  alone,  spin- 
ning by  the  kitchen  fire,  in  her  little  cottage.  The  room 
was  adorned  with  the  spoils  of  the  chase,  and  many  imple- 
ments of  war  and  hunting.  There  were  spears,  bows  and 
arrows,  swords  and  shields,  and,  against  the  side  of  the  room, 
hung  a  pair  of  huge  antlers,  once  reared  on  the  lordly  brow 
of  a  "  stag  of  ten,"*  on  which  were  suspended  skins,  plaids, 
bonnets  and  one  or  two  ponderous  battle-axes. 

2.  The  table,  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  was  spread  for  sup- 
per, and  some  oatmeal  cakes  were  baking  before  the  fire.  But 
the  dame  was  not  thinking  of  any  of  these  things^  nor  of 
her  two  manly  sons,  who,  in  an  adjoining  room,  were  busily 
preparing  for  the  next  day's  sport. 

3.  She  was  thinkins^  of  the  distracted  state  of  her  native 
land,  and  of  the  good  king,  Robert  Bruce,  a  fugitive  in  his 
own  kingdom,  beset,  on  every  hand,  by  open  enemies  and 
secret  traitors.  "Alas!"  thought  she,  ''to-night  I  dwell 
here  in  peace,  while  to-morrow  may  see  me  driven  out  into 
the  heath ;  and  even  now  our  king  is  a  wanderer,  with  no 
shelter  for  his  weary  limbs." 

4.  A  loud  knock  at  the  door  broke  in  upon  her  musings. 
She  rose,  trembling  with  fear,  to  unbar-  the  entrance,  and 
beheld  a  man  closely  mufiled  in  a  cloak.  "  My  good  woman," 
said  he,  "  will  you  grant  a  poor  traveler  the  shelter  of  your 
roof  to-night'?" 

5.  "Right  willingly  will  I,"  said  she  ;  "for  the  love  of 
one^  for  whose  sake  all  travelers  are  welcome  here." 


*  That  is,  a  stag  ten  jcars  old.     The  age  of  the  animal  is  known  by  the 
number  of  prongs  or  tines,  eaeh  year  one  new  prong  being  added. 
4  IT  6* 


130  SANDERS'    Ux^IOlV    SERIES. 

6.  "For  whose  sake  is  it  that  jou  make  all  wanderers 
"VN'elcome  ?''  asked  the  stranger 

7.  'Tor  the  sake  of  our  good  king,  Robert  Bruce,  who 
though  he  is  now  hunted  like  a  wild  beast,  with  horn  and 
hound,  I  trust  jet  to  see  on  the  throne  of  Scotland  !" 

8.  "Nay,  then,  mjr  good  woman, '^replied  the  man,  "since 
you  love  him  so  well,  know  that  you  see  him  now.  /  am 
Robert  Bruce." 

9.  ''  Yoi/f—nre  you  ow.v  king'?"  she  inquired,  sinking 
on  her  knees,  and  reverently  kissing  his  hand;  "where,  then, 
are  your  followers,  and  why  are  you  thus  alone?" 

10.  "I  have  no  followers  now,"  replied  Bruce,  "and  am, 
therefore,  compelled  to  travel  alone." 

11.  "Nay,  my  liege,"  exclaimed  the  loyal  dame,  "that 
you  shall  do  no  longer ;  for  here  are  my  two  sons,  whom  I 
give  to  you,  and  may  tbey  long  live  to  serve  and  defend' 
your  majesty  !" 

12.  The  Scottish  youths  bent  their  knees,  and  took  the 
oath  of  fealty,  and  then,  sitting  beside  the  fire,  the  king 
entered  into  conversation  with  his  new  retainers,  while  their 
mother  was  busied  in  preparing  the  evening  meal. 

13.  Suddenly,  they  were  startled  by  the  tramp  of  horses' 
hoofs,  and  the  voices  of  men.  "  '  Tis  the  English  .'"  shouted 
the  matron,  ^^Jijht  to  the  last^  my  sons,  and  defend  your 
king  V  But,  at  this  moment,  the  king  recognized  the  voices 
of  lord  James,  of  Douglas,  and  of  Edward  Bruce,  and  bade 
them  have  no  fear.  / 

14.  Bruce  was  overjoyed  at  meeting  with  his  brother,  and 
his  faithful  friend  Douglas,  who  had  with  them  a  band  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  men.  He  bade  farewell  to  the  brave 
and  loyal  woman,  and,  taking  with  him  her  two  sons,  left  the 
place. 

15.  The  two  young  Scots  served   Bruce  well  and  faith- 


NUMBER    FOUR.  131 

fully,  and  were  high  officers  in  his  service  when,  at  the  head 
of  a  conquering  army,  he  drove  the  English  invaders  from 
the  soil  of  Scotland,  and  rendered  her  again  a  free  and 
independent  kingdom. 

Questions. — 1.  Describe  the  room  in  which  the  Scotch  woman  resided. 
2.  What  is  meant  by  a  "  stag  of  ten  ?"  3.  ^'ho  did  the  stranger  prove  to 
be  ?     4.  Who  joined  Bruce  ?     5.  What  did  Brijce  and  his  men  then  do  ? 


LESSON  XXXIY. 

Pros  per'  i  ty,  success;  good  fortune.  ^  Im  mees'  ed,  inwrappod;  sunk. 

Dia'  Ni  FiE$,  elevates;  ennobles.  Gos'  sa  mer  y,  like  gossamer ;  filmy. 

Sus  tain'  ED,  endured ;  suffered.         j  Re  coil''  ed,  started  back. 

Ad  vers'  I  TY,  calamity ;  misfortune.  \  Foil'  ed,  frustrated  ;  defeated. 

Un  err'  iNa,  sure ;  certain.  Ro  mange',  fiction. 

Forlorn',  forsaken;  wretched.  \  Triv' i  al,  small;  ti-ifling. 

Can'  0  PY,  covering  overhead.  |  Con  fide',  trust ;  believe. 

Devoid',  destitute,     [the  eider-duck.  Ad' verse,  contrary;  opposite 

Ei  DEE-DOWN,  fine,  soft  feathers  from  )  Palm,  token  of  victory. 


ROBERT  BRUCE  AMD  THE  SPIDER. 

Bernard  Bartow. 

1.  Not  in  prosperity' s  broad  light, 

Can  reason  justly  scan 
The  sterling  worth  xohich,  viewed  aright, 

Most  dignifies  the  man. 
Favored  at  once  hj  wind  and  tide, 
The  skillful  pilot  well  may  guide 

The  bark  in  safety  on  ; 
Yet,  when  his  harbor  he  has  gained, 
He  who  no  conflict  hath  sustained, 

No  meed  has  fairly  won. 


132  SANDERS'    UNION    SEIIIES. 

2.  But  in  adversity's  dark  hour 

Of  peril  and  of  fear, 
When  clouds  above  the  vessel  lower, 

With  scarce  one  star  to  cheer ; 
When  winds  are  loud,  and  waves  are  high, 
And  ocean,  to  a  timid  eje, 

Appears  the  seaman's  grave ; 
Amid  the  conflict,  calm,  unmoved, 
Bj  truth's  unerring  test  is  proved 

The  skillful  and  the  brave. 


8.   For  Scotland  and  her  freedom's  right 

The  Bruce  his  part  had  played ; 
In  five  successive  fields  of  fight 

Been  conquered  and  dismayed. 
Once  more,  against  the  English  host 
His  band  he  led,  and  07ice  m,ore  lost 

The  meed  for  which  he  fought ; 
And  now,  from  battle  faint  and  worn, 
The  homeless  fugitive  forlorn 

A  hut's  lone  shelter  souorht. 

o 

4.  And  cheerless  was  that  resting-place 

For  him  who  claimed  a  throne ; 
His  canopy,  devoid  of  grace, — 

The  rude,  rough  beams  alone  ; 
The  heather  couch  his  only  bed. 
Yet  well  I  know  had  slumber  fled 

From  couch  of  eider-down ; 
Through  darksome  night  to  dawn  of  day, 
Immersed  in  wakeful  thought  he  lay, 

Of  Scotland  and  her  crown. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  ^c.^ 

5.  The  sun  rose  brightly,  and  its  gleam 

Fell  on  that  hapless  bed, 
And  tinged  with  light  each  shapeless  beam 

Which  roofed  the  lowly  shed ; 
When,  looking  up  with  wistful  eye, 
The  Bruce  beheld  a  spider  try 

His  filmy  thread  to  fling 
From  beam  to  beam  of  that  rude  cot ; 
And  well  the  insect's  toilsome  lot 

Taught  Scotland's  future  king. 


6.  Six  times  his  gossamery  thread 

The  wary  spider  threw  : 
In  vain  the  filmy  line  was  sped ; 

For,  powerless  or  untrue, 
Each  aim  appeared  and  back  recoiled 
The  patient  insect,  six  times  f oiled ^ 

And  yet  unconquered  still ; 
And  soon  the  Bruce,  with  eager  eye, 
Saw  him  prepare  once  more  to  try 

His  courage,  strength,  and  skill. 

7.  One  effort  mo?^e,  the  seventh  and  last.- 

The  hero  hailed  the  sign  ! 
And  on  the  wished- for  beam  hung  fast 

The  slender,  silken  line. 
Slight  as  it  was,  his  spirit  caught 
The  more  than  omen  ;  for  his  thought 

The  lesson  well  could  trace, 
Which  even  ''  he  who  runs  may  read," 
That  perseverance  gains  its  meed, 

And  patience  wins  the  lace. 


1:34  SANDERS'    UJVIOJV    SERIES. 

8.  Is  it  a  tale  of  mere  romance'? 

Its  moral  is  the  same, — 
A  light  and  trivial  circumstance'  ? 

Some  thought,  it  still  maj  claim. 
Art  thou  a  father'  ?  teach  thj  son 
Never  to  deem  that  all  is  do}ie, 

While  au^ht  remains  untried; 
To  hope,  though  every  hope  seems  crossed, 
And  when  his  bark  is  tempest-tossed 

StilJ  calmly  to  confide. 

9.  Hast  thou  been  long  and  often  foiled 
(<)  By  adverse  wind  and  seas'? 

And  vainly  struggled,  vainly  toiled, 

For  what  some  win  with  ease'? 
Yet  bear  up  heart,  and  hope,  and  will, 
Nobly  resolved  to  struggle  still. 

With  patience  persevere ; 
Knowing,  when  darkest  seems  the  night, 
The  dawn  of  morning's  glorious  light 
Is  swiftly  drawing  near. 

10.  Art  thou  a  Christian  ?  shall  the  frown 

Of  fortune  cause  dismay'? 
The  Bruce  but  won  an  earthly  crown 

Wtich  long  hath  passed  away; 
For  thee  a  heavenly  crown  awaits, 
For  thee  are  ope'd  the  pearly  gates, 

Prepared  the  deathless  palm : 
But  bear  in  mind  that  only  those 
Who  persevere  unto  the  close, 

Can  join  in   Yictorys  psalm. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  ]^g5 

Questions. — 1.  Will  smooth  seas  andflivoring  gales  make  a  skillful  mari- 
ner ?  2.  What  will  make  skillful  and  brave  men  ?  3.  In  what  respect  is 
adversity  better  than  prosperity  ?  4.  What  story  illustrates  this  fact  ?  5. 
How  many  times  did  the  spider  try,  before  it  succeeded  ?  6.  In  how  many 
battles  had  Bruce  been  defeated  ?  1.  What  important  lesson  is  taught  youth? 
8.  What  encouragement  is  given  to  the  Christian  ? 


^9^m-s^' 


LESSON    XXXV. 

Pat  ri  ot'  ic,  having  love  of  country.  (  0'  di  ous,  hatefal ;  offensive. 

Ob  $er  va'  tion,  remark;  expression.     Count''  ess,  wife  of  a  count  or  earl. 

Pop'  u  lar,  well  received ;  prevailing.  \  Fag-end',  the  meaner  part. 

E  qual'  I  TY,  sameness  of  social  posi-     No  bil'  i  ty,  noble  rank. 

Aud'  I  ble,  that  may  be  heard,  [tion.     BuR  lesque',  {bur  lesk^,)  ridicule. 

De  ter'  min  ED,  fully  resolved.  He  red'  i  ta  ry,  coming  by  descent. 

He$'  I  TATE,  scruple.  |  Con'  sti  tutes,   forms ;  composes. 

Bra'  vo,  well  done.  Aph'  o  ri$m$,  precepts ;  maxims. 

Broil$,  wrangles  ;  quarrels.  Tem'  po  RA  ry,  continuing  for  a  time. 

Ee  nown' ED,  famed;  celebrated.       )  Beck,  sign  with  the  hand;  nod. 

^  La  va'  ter,  (John  Gaspar,)  a  celebrated  physiognomist,  that  is,  one 'skilled 
in  the  art  of  determining  character  by  the  external  features,  born  in  Zurich, 
in  1741. 

That  part  of  this  dialogue  uttered  by  Caroline,  should  be  read  in  a  very 
earnest  and  spirited  style, — that  uttered  by  Horace  in  a  more  grave,  delib- 
erate, and  candid  manner. 


WEALTH    AJiD    FASHION* 

Miss  Edgwoetii. 

CaroVme.  What  a  pitj  it  is  that  we  are  born  under  a 
Republican  government  I 

Horace.  Upon  mj  word,  Caroline,  that  is  a  patriotic 
observation  for  an  American. 

Caroline.  Oh,  I  know  that  it  is  not  a  popular  one  !  We 
must  all  join  in  the  cry  of  liberty  and  equality,  and  bless 
our  stars  that  we  have  neither  kings  nor  emperors  to  rule 


136  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

over  us,  and  that  our  very  first  audible  squeak  was  repub- 
licanism. If  we  don't  join  in  the  shout,  and  hang  our  caps 
on  liberty -poles,  we  are  considered  monsters.  For  mj  part, 
I  am  tired  of  it,  and  am  determined  to  say  what  I  think. 
I  hate  republicanism;  I  hate  liberty  and  equality;  and  I 
don't  hesitate  to  declare  that  I  ara  for  monarchy.  You  may 
laugh,  but  I  would  say  it  at  the  stake. 

Horace.  Bravo,  Caroline!  You  have  almost  run  yourself 
out  of  breath.    You  deserve  to  be  prime  minister  to  the  king. 

Caroline.  You  mistake ;  I  have  no  wish  to  mingle  in 
political  broils,  not  even  if  I  could  be  as  renowned  as  Pitt 
or  Fox ;  but  I  must  say,  I  think  our  equality  is  odious. 
What  do  you  think !  To-day,  the  new  chamber-maid  put 
her  head  into  the  door,  and  said,  '' Caroline,  your 
marm   wants  you!" 

Horace.  Excellent  !  I  suppose  if  ours  were  a  monarch- 
ical government,  she  would  have  bent  to  the  ground,  or 
saluted  your  little  foot,  before  she  spoke. 

Caroline.  No,  Horace;  you  know  there  are  no  such 
forms  in  this  country. 

Horace.  May  I  ask  your  highness  what  you  would  like 
to  be? 

Caroline.  I  would  like  to  be  a  countess. 

Horace.  Oh,  you  are  moderate  in  your  ambition !  A 
countess,  now-a-days,  is  the  fag-end  of  nobility. 

Caroline.  Oh!  but  it  sounds  so  delightfully, — ^'The 
young  Countess  Caroline  P'' 

Horace.  If  sound  is  all,  you  shall  have  that  pleasure ; 
we  will  call  you  the  young  countess. 

Caroline.  That  would  be  mere  burlesque,  Horace,  and 
would  make  one  ridiculous. 

Horace.  Nothing  can  be  more  inconsistent  with  us,  than 
aiming  at  titles. 


KUMBER    FOUR.  '         \<^^ 

Caroline.  For  us^  I  grant  jou;  but,  if  they  were  lie- 
redltary^  if  we  had  been  born  to  them,  if  they  came  to  us 
through  belted  knights  and  high-born  dames,  then  we  might 
be  proud  to  wear  them.  I  never  shall  cease  to  regret  that 
I  was  not  born  under  a  monarchy. 

Horace.  You  seem  to  forget  that  all  are  not  lords  and 
ladies  in  royal  dominions.  Suppose  you  should  have  drawn 
your  first  breath  among  the  lower  classes^ — suppose  it 
should  have  been  your  lot  to  crouch  and  bend,  or  be  trod- 
den under  foot  by  some  titled  personage,  whom  in  your 
heart  you  despised ;  what  then  ? 

Carolijie.  You  may  easily  suppose  that  I  did  not  mean 
to  take  those  chances.  ]S"o  ;  I  meant  to  be  born  among  the 
higher  ranks. 

Horace.  Your  own  reason  must  tell  you,  that  all  can  not 
be  born  among  the  higher  ranks ;  for  then  the  loioer  ones 
would  be  wanting,  which  constitute  the  comparison.  Now, 
Caroline,  is  it  not  better  to  be  born  under  a  government 
where  there  are  no  such  ranks,  and  where  the  only  nobility 
is  talent  and  virtue'  ? 

Caroline.  Talent  and  virtue  !  I  think  wsalth  constitutes 
our  nobility,  and  the  right  of  abusing  each  other,  our  liberty. 

Horace.   You  are  as  fond  of  aphorisms  as  Lavater^  was. 

Caroline.  Let  me  ask  you  if  our  rich  men,  who  ride  in 
their  own  carriages,  who  have  fine  houses,  and  who  count  by 
millions,  are  not  our  great  men  ? 

Horace.  They  have  all  the  greatness  that  money  can  buy; 
btit  this  is  very  limited. 

Caroline.   Well,  in  my  opinion,  money  is  power, 

Horace.  You  mistake.  Money  may  be  temporary 
power .^  but  talent  is  power  itself ;  and,  when  united  loith 
virtue^  is  godlike  power,  before  which  the  mere  man  of 
millions  quails. 


138  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Caroline.  Well,  Horace,  I  really  wish  jou  the  possession 
of  talent,  and  principle,  and  wealth  into  the  bargain.  The 
latter,  jou  think,  will  follow  the  two  former,  simplj  at  your 
beck ; — you  smile ;  but  /  feel  as  determined  in  my  way  of 
thinking,  as  you  do  in  yours. 

Questions.— 1.  What  is  the  subject  of  this  dialogue?  2.  What  did  Caro- 
line regret?  3.  What  reply  did  Horace  make?  4.  What  did  Caroline  wish 
to  be  ?     5.  What  did  Horace  say  constituted  true  nobility  ? 

LESSON    XXXVI. 

Re  $erv'  ixG,  keeping  ;  retaining.     \  Ju  di"  cious,  wise  ;  prudent. 
Ac  cu'  MU  LA  TED,  collected.  Vo  ca'  tion,  business ;  employment. 

Ix  DIG  na'  tion,  angry  feeling.  Eu  phon'  ic,  agreeable  ;  well-sound- 

Rk  sourc'  e$,  means ;  funds.  ing.  [the  same  time. 

Dis  SKR  ta'  tion,  discourse ;  essay.       Co  tem'  po  ra  rie$,  those  living  at 
Ex  pan'  sion,  enlargement.  Di  gres'  sion,   departure  from  tlie 

Depo$'ited,  put;  laid.  Pre  dig' tion$,  prophecies,  [subject. 

Ex  er'  tion,  {egz  er  shun^)  effort.         (  Im  pell'  ed,  driven  forward. 

Ar  is  too'  ra  cy,  (aristo,  the  best ;  cracy,  government,)  government  by 
the  best,  or  nobles.     See  Sanders'  Analysis,  page  200,  Ex.  283. 

1  Soo'  RA  te$,  the  most  celebrated  philosopher  of  antiquity,  was  born  at 
Athens,  470  years  before  Christ.  The  purity  of  his  doctrines,  and  his  inde- 
pendence of  character,  rendered  him  popular  with  the  most  enlightened 
Athenians,  though  they  created  him  many  enemies.  He  was  falsely  accused, 
arraigned,  and  condemned  to  drink  hemlock,  the  juice  of  a  poisonous  plant. 
When  the  hour  to-  take  the  poison  had  come,  the  executioner  handed  him 
the  cup,  with  tears  in  liis  eyes.  Socrates  received  it  with  composure,  drank 
it  with  unaltered  countenance,  and,  in  a  few  moments,  expired. 

2  De  mos'  the  ne$,  a  great  Grecian  orator,  who,  rather  than  fall  into 
the  hands  of  his  enemies,  destroyed  himself  by  taking  poison.  It  is  said 
that,  when  a  youth,  he  frequently  declaimed  on  the  sea-shore,  while  the 
waves  were  roaring  around  him,  in  order  to  secure  a  large  compass  of  voice, 
and  to  accustom  himself  to  the  tumult  of  a  popular  assembly. 

3  King  Da'  vid,  the  sweet  singer  and  poet  of  Israel.  For  the  interesting 
account  of  his  tnumph  over  Goliath,  the  giant  champion  of  the  Philistines, 
see  1  Sam.,  chap.  17. 


3VUMBER    FOUR.  ]_g9 

MY    FIRST    dfACK-KNIFE. 

1.  I  REMEMBER  it  well  !  Its  hom  handle,  so  smooth 
and  clear,  glowing  with  the  unmeaning,  but  magic  word, 
^^  Bunkum  f^  and  the  blade  significantly  inviting  you  to 
the  test,  by  the  two  monosyllables,  "  Try  me." 

2.  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  I  never  could  take  half  the 
comfort  in  any  thing  which  I  have  since  possessed,  that  I 
took  in  this  jack-knife.  I  earned  it  myself ;  and,  therefore, 
I  had  a  feeling  of  independence  ;  it  was  bought  with  my  oitm 
money ^ — not  teazed  out  of  my  uncle,  or  still  kinder  father, — 
inoney  that  I  had  silently  earned  on  the  afternoons  of  those 
days  set  apart  for  boys  to  amuse  themselves. 

3.  Yes  !  with  a  spirit  of  persevering  industry  and  self- 
denial,  at  which  I  now  wonder,  I  went,  every  afternoon, 
during  ''  berry-time,"  and  picked  the  ripened  fruit  with 
eagerness  ;  for  my  heart  was  in  the  task.  I  sold  my  ber- 
ries, and,  carefully  reserving  the  proceeds,  shortly  accumu- 
lated enough  to  purchase  the  treasure,  for  which  I  so  eagerly 
longed. 

4.  I  went  to  one  of.  the  village-stores,  and  requested  the 
clerk  to  show  me  his  jack-knives ;  but  he,  seeing  that  I  was 
only  a  boy,  and  thinking  that  I  merely  meant  to  amuse  myself 
in  looking  at  the  nicest,  and  wishing  it  w^as  mine,  told  me 
not  to  plague  him,  as  he  was  otherwise  engaged. 

5.  I  turned  with  indignation ;  but  I  felt  the  inward  com- 
fort of  a  man  who  has  confidence  in  his  own  resources,  and 
knows  he  has  the  power  in  his  own  hands.  I  quietly  jingled 
the  money  in  my  pockets,  and  went  to  the  opposite  store. 
I  asked  for  jack-knives,  and  was  shown  a  lot  fresh  from  the 
city,  which  were  temptingly  laid  down  before  me,  and  left 
for  me  to  select  one,  while  the  trader  went  to  another  part 
of  his  store  to  wait  upon  an  older  customer.     I  looked  over 


140  sa:vders'  union   skhiks. 

them;    opened  them,   breathed   upon  the  blades,   and   shut 
them  again. 

6.  One  was  too  hard  to  open,  another  had  no  spring; 
finally,  after  examining  them  with  all  the  judgment  which, 
in  my  opinion,  the  extent  of  the  investment  required,  I 
selected  one  with  a  hole  through  the  handle ;  and,  after  a 
dissertation  with  the  owner  upon  jack-knives  in  general,  and 
this  o}ie  in  particular,— upon  hawk-bill,  and  dagger-blades, — 
and  handles,  iron,  bone,  and  buck-horn, — I  succeeded  in 
closing  a  bargain, 

7.  I  took  the  instrument  I  had  purchased,  and  felt  a  sud- 
den expansion  of  my  boyish  frame  1  It  was  my  world  !  I 
deposited  it  in  my  pocket  among  other  valuables, — twine, 
marbles,  slate-pencils,  &c.  I  went  home  to  my  father;  I 
told  him  how  long  I  had  toiled  for  it,  and  how  eagerly  I 
had  spent  time,  which  others  had  allotted  to  play,  to  possess 
myself  of  my  treasure. 

8.  My  father  gently  chided  me  for  not  telling  him  of  my 
wants  ;  but  1  observed  his  glistening  eye  turn  affectionately 
to  my  mother  and  then  to  me,  and  I  thought  that  his  manly 
form  seemed  to  ^raighten  up,  and  to  look  prouder  than  I 
had  ever  before  seen  him.  At  any  rate,  he  came  to  me,  and, 
patting  my  curly  head,  told  me  there  was  no  object  in  life, 
which  was  reasonably  to  be  desired,  that  honesty,  self- 
denial,  well-directed  industry,  and  perseverance  would  not 
place  within  my  reach ;  and  if,  through  life,  I  carried  the 
spirit  of  independent  exertion  into  practice,  which  I  had  dis- 
played in  the  purchase  of  the  jack-knife,  I  should  become  a 
^'  great  man^ 

9.  From  that  moment,  I  was  a  new  being.  I  had  discov- 
ered that  I  could  rely  upon  myself.  I  took  my  jack-knife, 
and  many  a  time,  while  cutting  the  walnut-saplings  for  my 
bow,  or  the  straight  pine  for  my  arrow,  or  carving  my  mimic 


NUMBER    FOUR.  141 

ship,  did  I  muse  upon  these  words  of  mj  father, — so  deeply 
aj-e  the  kind  expressions  of  a  judicious  parent  engraven  on 
the  heart  and  memory  of  boyhood. 

10.  My  knife  was  my  constant  companion.  It  was  my 
carpenter,  my  ship-builder,  and  my  toy-manufacturer.  It 
was  out  upon  all  orcasions,  never  amiss,  and  always  '4iandy  ;" 
and,  as  I  valued  it,  I  never  let  it  part  from  me.  I  own  my 
selfishness  ;  I  would  divide  my  apples  among  my  pla^-mates, 
my  whole  store  of  marbles  was  at  their  service, — they  might 
knock  my  bats,  kick  my  foot-ball  as  they  chose ;  but  I  had 
no  partnership  of  enjoyments  in  my  jack-knife.  Its  posses- 
sion was  connected  in  my  mind  with  something  so  exclusive^ 
that  I  could  not  permit  another  to  take  it  for  a  moment. 
Oh  !  there  is  a  wild  and  delicious  luxury  in  one's  boyish 
anticipations  and  youthful  day-dreams  ! 

11.  If,  however,  the  use  of  my  jack-knife  afibrded  me 
pleasure,  the  idea  of  its  possession  was  no  less  a  source  of 
enjoyment,  I  was,  for  the  time  being,  a  little  prince  among 
my  fellows, — a  perfect  monarch.  Let  no  one  exclaim  against 
aristocracy  ;  were  we  all  perfectly  equal  to-day ^  there  would 
be  an  aristocracy  to-morrow.  Talent,  judgment,  skill,  tict, 
industry,  perseverance,  will  place  some  on  the  top,  Avhile  the 
contrary  attributes  will  place  others  at  the  bottom  of  for- 
tune's ever-revolving  wheel ! 

12.  The  plowman  is  an  aristocrat,  if  he  excels  in  his 
vocation :  he  is  an  aristocrat,  if  he  turns  a  better  or  a 
straighter  furrow  than  his  neighbor.  The  poorest  poet  is  an 
aristocrat,  if  he  writes  more  feelingly,  in  a  purer  language, 
or  with  more  euphonic  jingle  than  his  cotemporaries.  The 
fisherman  is  an  aristocrat,  if  he  wields  his  harpoon  with 
more  skill,  and  hurls  it  with  a  deadlier  energy  than  his 
messmates,  or  lias  even  learned  to  fix  his  bait  more  allur- 
ingly on  his  barbed  hook. 


142  SANDERS'    UNION    SEUIES. 

13.  All  have  had,  and  still  have  their  foibles ;  all  have 
-some  possession,  upon  which  they  pride  themselves,  and  I 
was  proud  of  mj  jack-knife  !  Spirit  of  Socrates^  forgive 
me  I  was  there  no  pride  in  djing  Hke  a  philosopher'  ?  Spirit 
of  Demosthenes',  forgive  me!  was  there  no  pride  in  your 
addresses  to  the  boundless  and  roaring  ocean'?  Spirit  of 
David' !  was  there  no  pride  in  the  deadly  hurling  of  the 
smooth^  pebble,  which  sank  deep  into  the  forehead  of  your 
enemy'  ? 

14.  But  I  must  take  my  jack-knife  and  cut  short  this 
digression.  Let  no  man,  say  this  or  that  occurrence  "  wiil 
make  no  differ eiice  fifty  ijears  hence ^'' — a  common,  but 
dangerous  phrase.  I  am  noio  a  man  of  three-score  years. 
I  can  point  my  finger  here  to  my  ships,  there  to  my  ware- 
house. My  name  is  well  known  in  two  hemispheres.  I 
have  drank  deeply  of  intellectual  pleasures,  have  served  my 
country  in  many  important  stations,  have  had  my  gains,  and 
made  my  losses. 

15.  I  have  seen  many,  who  started  with  fairer  prospects, 
but  with  no  compass,  wrecked  before  me ;  but  I  have  been 
impelled  in  my  operations,  no  matter  how  extensive,  by  the 
same  spirit  which  conceived  and  executed  the  purchase  of 
the  jack-knife.  And  I  have  found  my  reward  in  it ;  and, 
perhaps,  in  after  years,  there  will  be  those  who  will  say  that 
the  predictions  of  my  fither  were  fulfilled  in  their  case ; 
and  that,  from  small  heginnings^  by  '•  honesty,  self- 
denial,  well-directed   industry,  and   perseverance,''   they, 

also,    BECAME    TRULY    ''  GREAT   MEN.'' 

QuESTioxs— 1.  How  did  this  boy  obtain  his  first  jack-knife  ?  2.  What 
did  his  father  say  to  him,  when  he  told  how  he  had  earned  it  ?  3.  What 
use  did  he  make  of  his  knife?  4.  What  is  said  about  aristocracy? 
5.  What  is  said  of  this  boy  when  he  came  to  be  three-score  years  old  ? 


NUMBER    FOUR.  143 

LESSON    XXXVII. 

Coin'  ei>,  stamped.  j  At  tir'  ed,  dressed ;  arrayed. 

Bar' TER,  trade;  exchange.  \  Pi'ony,  plant  and  beautiful  flower. 

Com  mod'  I  TiE$,  goods ;  wares.  \  Per'  son  a  ble,  handsome ;  graceful. 

Bull'  ion,  uncoined  silver  or  gold,  j  Es  pe"  cial  ly,  mainly  ;  chiefly. 

Bug'  ca  neer$,  pirates ;  free-booters.  Cer'  e  mo  ny,  rite  ;  form,  [or  holds. 

l.^l  mense',  very  great ;  enormous.  (  Ee  cep'  ta  cle,  that  which  receives 

Dain' TiE$,  delicacies.  Pon' der  ors,  heavy;  bulky.' 

Small-clothe$,  breeches.  1  Ee  $um'  ing,  taking  again. 

THE    PINE-TREE    SHILLINGS. 

NaTIIANIKL    n.VWTHORXK. 

1.  Captain  John  Hull  was  the  mint-master  of  Massa- 
chusetts, and  coined  all  the  money  that  was  made  there. 
This  was  a  new  line  of  business ;  for,  in  the  earlier  days  of 
the  colony,  the  current  coinage  consisted  of  gold  and  silver 
money  of  England,  Portugal,  and  Spain. 

2.  These  coins  being  scarce,  the  people  were  often  forced 
to  barter  their  commodities,  instead  of  selling  them.  For 
instance,  if  a  man  wanted  to  buy  a  coat,  he,  perhaps,  ex- 
changed a  bear-skin  for  it.  If  he  wished  for  a  barrel  of 
molasses,  he  might  purchase  it  with  a  pile  of  pine-boards. 
Musket-bullets  were  used  instead  of  farthings. 

3.  The  Indians  had  a  sort  of  money,  called  wa?Jipum, 
which  was  made  of  clam-shells ;  and  this  strange  sort  of 
specie  was,  likewise,  taken  in  payment  of  debts,  by  the  Eng- 
lish settlers.  Bank-bills  had  never  been  heard  of.  Thero 
was  not  money  enough  of  any  kind,  in  many  parts  of  the 
country,  to  pay  the  salaries  of  the  ministers ;  so  that  they 
sometimes  had  to  take  quintals  of  fish,  bushels  of  corn,  or 
cords  of  wood,  instead  of  silver  or  gold. 

4.  As  the  people  grew  more  numerous,  and  their  trade 
one  with  another  increased,  the  want  of  current  money  was 
still  more  sensibly  felt.     To  supply  the  demand,  the  general 


144  SANDERS'    UNIOjV    SERIES. 

court  passed  a  law  for  establishing  a  coinage  of  shiliinfys^ 
sixpences,  and  threepences.  Captain  John  Hull  was  ap- 
pointed to  manufacture  this  jmonej,  and  was  to  have  one 
shilling,  out  of  every  twenty,  to  pay  him  for  the  trouble  of 
making  them. 

5.  Hereupon,  all  the  old  silver  in  the  colony  was  handed 
over  to  Captain  John  Hull.  The  battered  silver  cans,  and 
tankards,  and  silver-buckles,  and  broken  spoons,  and  silver- 
buttons  of  worn-out  coats,  and  silver  hilts  of  swords  that 
had  figured  at  courts, — all  such  curious  old  articlesVere, 
doubtless,  thrown  into  the  melting-pot  together.  But  by 
far  the  greater  part  of  the  silver  consisted  of  bullion  from 
the  mines  of  South  America,  which  the  English  buccaneers, 
(who  were  little  better  than  pirates,)  had  taken  from  the 
Spaniards,  and  brought  to  Massachusetts. 

6.  All  this  old  and  new  silver  being  melted  down  and 
coined,  the  result  was  an  immense  amount  of  splendid  shil- 
lings, sixpences,  and  threepences.  Each  had  the  date,  1652, 
on  the  one  side,  and  the  figure  of  a  j^i^^e-tree  on  the  other. 
Hence,  they  were  called  pine-tree  shillings.  And,  for  every 
twenty  shillings  that  he  coined,  you  will  remember,  Captain 
John  Hull  was  entitled  to  put  one  shilling  into  his  own 
pocket. 

7.  The  magistrates  soon  began  to  suspect  that  the  mint- 
master  would  have  the  best  of  the  bargain.  They  offered 
him  a  large  sum  of  money,  if  he  would  but  give  up  that 
twentieth  shilling,  which  he  was  continually  dropping  into 
his  own  pocket.  But  Captain  Hull  declared  himself  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  the  shilling.  And  well  he  might  be  • 
for,  so  diligently  did  he  labor,  that,  in  a  few  years,  his 
pockets,  his  money-bags,  and  his  strong  box,  were  overflow- 
ing with  pine-tree  shillings.  This  was  probably  the  case 
^hen  he  came  into  possession  of  Grandfather's  chair;  and, 


NUMBER    FOUR.  145 

as  he  had  worked  so  hard  at  the  mint,  it  was  certainly 
proper  that  he  should  have  a  comfortable  chair  to  rest  him- 
self in. 

8.  When  the  mint-master  had  grown  very  rich,  a  young 
man,  Samuel  Sewell  by  name,  fell  in  love  with  his  only 
daughter.  His  daughter,  whom  we  will  call  Betsey,  was  a 
fine,  hearty  damsel,  by  no  means  so  slender  as  some  young 
ladies  of  our  own  days.  As  Samuel  was  a  young  man  of  good 
character,  industrious  in  his  business,  and  a  member  of  the 
church,  the  mint-master  very  readily  gave  his  consent. 

9.  "  Yes ;  you  may  take  her,"  said  he,  in  his  rough  way; 
"and  you'll  find  her  a  heavy  burden  enough!"  On  the 
wedding-day,  we  may  suppose  that  honest  John  Hull  dressed 
himself  in  a  plum-colored  coat,  all  the  buttons  of  which 
were  made  of  pine-tree  shillings.  The  buttons  of  his  waist- 
coat were  sixpences ;  and  the  knees  of  his  small-clothes  were 
buttoned  with  silver  threepences. 

10.  Thus  attired,  he  sat  with  great  dignity  in  Grand- 
father's chair ;  and,  being  a  portly  old  gentleman,  he  com- 
pletely filled  it  from  elbow  to  elbow.  On  the  opposite  side 
of  the  room,  between  her  bridemaids,  sat  Miss  Betsey,  blush- 
ing like  a  full-blown  piony. 

11.  There,  too,  was  the  bridegroom,  dressed  in  a  fine 
purple  coat,  and  gold-lace  waistcoat,  with  as  much  other 
finery  as  the  Puritan  laws  and  customs  would  allow  him  to 
put  on.  His  hair  was  cropped  close  to  his  head,  because 
Governor  Endicott  had  forbidden  any  man  to  wear  it  below 
the  ears.  But  he  was  a  very  personable  young  man  ;  and 
so  thought  the  bridemaids  and  Miss  Betsey  herself. 

12.  The  mint-master,  also,  was  pleased  with  his  new  son- 
in-law;  especially  as  he  had  courted  Miss  Betsey  out  of 
pure  love,  and  had  said  nothing  at  all  about  her  portion. 
So,  when  the  marriage  ceremony  was  over.  Captain  Hull 

4U  7 


146  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

whispered  a  word  to  two  of  his  men-servants,  wlio  imme- 
diately went  out,  and  soon  returned,  lugging  in  a  large  pair 
of  scales.  Thej  were  such  a  pair  as  wholesale  merchants 
use  for  weighing  bulky  commorlities ;  and  quite  a  bulky 
commodity  was  now  to  be  weighed  in  them., 

13.  ''Daughter  Betsey,"  said  the  mint-master,  "  get  into 
one  side  of  these  scales."  Miss  Betsey,  or  Mrs.  Sewell,  as 
we  must  now  call  her,  did  as  she  was  bid,  like  a  dutiful 
child,  without  any  question  of  the  why  and  wherefore.  But 
what  her  father  could  mean,  unless  to  make  her  husband  pay 
for  her  by  the  pound,  (in  which  case  she  would  have  been  a 
dear  bargain,)  she  had  not  the  least  idea. 

14.  "  And  now,"  said  honest  John  Hull  to  the  servants, 
*' bring  that  box  hither."  The  box,  to  which  the  mint- 
master  pointed,  was  a  huge,  square,  iron-bound,  oaken 
chest.  The  servants  tugged  with  might  and  main ;  but 
could  not  lift  this  enormous  receptacle,  and  were  finally 
obliged  to  drag  it  across  the  floor. 

15.  Captain  Hull  then  took  a  key  from  his  girdle,  un- 
locked the  chest,  and  lifted  its  ponderous  lid.  Behold  !  il 
was  full  to  the  brim  of  bright  pine-tree  shillings^  fresh 
from  the  mint ;  and  Samuel  Sewell  began  to  think  that  his 
father-in-law  had  got  possession  of  all  the  money  in  the 
Massachusetts'  treasury.  But  it  was  only  the  mint-master's 
honest  share  of  the  coinage. 

16.  Then  the  servants,  at  Captain  Hull's  command, 
heaped  double  handfuls  of  shillings  into  one  side  of  the 
scales,  while  Betsey  remained  in  the  other.  Jingle,  jingle, 
went  the  shillings,  as  handful  after  handful  was  thrown  in, 
till,  plump  and  ponderous  as  she  was,  they  fairly  weighed 
the  young  lady  from  the  floor. 

'  17.  "  There,  son  Samuel,"  said  the  honest  mint- master, 
resuming  his  seat  in  Grandfather's  chair,  "take  these  shil- 


NUMBEil    FOUR.  147 

lings  for  my  daughter's  portion.     Use  her  kindly,  and  thank 

Heaven  for  her.     It  is  not  every  wife  thafs  worth  her 

weight  in  silver  !'' 

Questions.— 1.  What  was  Captain  John  Hull's  business  ?  2.  What  por- 
tion of  the  money  coined,  was  he  to  receive?  3.  How  did  he  get  silver  to 
coin  ?  4.  Describe  the  shillings  he  coined.  5.  How  did  he  become  wealthy? 
6.  Describe  his  dress  on  his  daughter's  wedding-day.  1.  What  did  he 
say  to  his  son-in-law,  after  weighing  her  with  shillings  ? 

LESSON    XXXVIII. 

Lodg'  e$,  dens ;  caves.  j  Frol'  ic,  fun ;  play.             [waded. 

Mar'  vel  ous,  wonderful.  \  Ford,  place  where  water  can  be 

Tip'  fed,  pointed.  Fleck'  ed,  spotted ;  striped. 

Herd,  gather  in  herds.  >  Flut'  ter  ed,  quivered.                 * 

Fa'  mous,  noted ;  remarkable  i  Pal'  pi  ta  ted,  beat ;  throbbed. 

Roe'  buck,  small  species  of  deer.  Wa'  ry,  watchful ;  cautious. 

Straight'  way,  immediately  Fa'  tal,  deadly;  mortal,     [joiced. 

E  rect',  upright.  \  Ex  ult'  ed,  {x  like  gz,)  greatly  re- 

HIAWATHA'S-  HUNTING. 

Longfellow. 
This  lesson  is  taken  from  "  The  Song  of  Hiawatha,"  a  poem,  founded 
upon  traditions  current  among  some  tribes  of  North  American  Indians, 
respectiog  an  imaginary  being  of  more  than  mortal  powers  and  gifts,  named 
Hiawatha.  The  scene  of  the  poem  is  laid  among  the  Ojibways,  or  Chip- 
pewas,  a  tribe  of  Indians,  occupants,  from  the  period  of  our  earliest  history, 
of  the  basin  of  Lake  Superior. 

1.  Then  the  little  Hiawatha 

Learned  of  every  bird  its  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets, 
How  they  built  their  nests  in  summer, 
Where  they  hid  themselves  in  winter. 
Talked  with  them  where'er  he  met  them. 
Called  them  ''  Hiawatha's  chickens." 


148  SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

2.  Of  all  beasts  he  learned  the  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets, 
How  the  beavers  built  their  lodges, 
Where  the  squirrels  hid  their  acorns, 
How  the  reindeer  ran  so  swiftly, 

Why  the  rabbit  was  so  timid, 

Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 

Called  them  "Hiawatha's  brothers." 

3.  Then  I  a  goo,  the  great  boaster, 
He,  the  marvelous  story-teller. 
He,  the  traveler  and  the  talker, 
Made  a  bow  for  Hiawatha  ; 
From  a  branch  of  ash  he  made  it, 
From  an  oak-bough  made  the  arrows, 
Tipped  with  flint,  and  winged  with  feathers, 
And  the  cord  he  made  of  deer-skin. 

4.  Then  he  said  to  Hiawatha, 

"  Go,  my  son,  into  the  forest, 
Where  the  red  deer  herd  together, 
Kill  for  us  a  famous  roebuck, 
Kill  for  us  a  deer  with  antlers." 
Forth  into  the  forest  straightway 
All  alone  walked  Hiawatha 
Proudly  with  his  bow  and  arrows* 

5.  And  the  birds  sang  round  him,  o'er  him, 
**Do  not  shoot  us,  Hiawatha." 

Sang  the  robin,  sang  the  bluebird, 
*^Do  not  shoot  us,  Hiawatha." 
Up  the  oak-tree,  close  beside  him, 
Sprang  the  squirrel,  lightly  leaping 


NUMBER    FOUR.  149 

In  and  out  among  the  branches  ; 
Coughed  and  chattered  from  the  oak-tree, 
Laughed,  and  said  between  his  laughing, 
"  Do  not  shoot  me,  Hiawatha." 

6.  And  the  rabbit  from  his  pathway 
Leaped  aside,  and,  at  a  distance, 
Sat  erect  upon  his  haunches, 
Half  in  fear,  and  half  in  frolic, 
Saying  to  the  little  hunter, 
*'Do  not  shoot  me,  Hiawatha." 

7.  But  he  heeded  not  nor  heard  them. 

For  his  thoughts  were  with  the  red  deer ; 
On  their  tracks  his  eyes  were  fastened, 
Leading  downward  to  the  river. 
To  the  ford  across  the  river. 
And  as  one  in  slumber  walked  he. 

8.  Hidden  in  the  alder  bushes. 
There  he  waited  till  the  deer  came, 
Till  he  saw  two  antlers  lifted. 

Saw  two  eyes  look  from  the  thicket, 
Saw  two  nostrils  point  to  windward. 
And  the  deer  came  down  the  pathway, 
Flecked  with  leafy  light  and  shadow. 
And  his  heart  within  him  fluttered, 
Trembled  like  the  leaves  above  him, 
Like  the  birch  leaf  palpitated, 
As  the  deer  came  down  the  pathway. 

9.  Then,  upon  one  knee  uprising, 
Hiawatha  aimed  an  arrow ; 


150 


SAKDERS'    UA'ION    SERIES. 


Scarce  a  twig  moved  "sfrith  his  motion, 
Scarce  a  leaf  was  stirred  or  rustled, 
But  the  warj  roebuck  started, 
Stamped  with  all  his  hoofs  together, 
Listened  with  one  foot  uplifted. 
Leaped  as  if  to  meet  the  arrow ; 
Ah,  the  singing,  fatal  arrow. 
Like  a  wasp  it  buzzed  and  stung  him. 

10.  Dead  he  lay  there  in  the  forest. 
By  the  ford  across  the  river ; 
Beat  his  timid  heart  no  longer ; 
But  the  heart  of  Hiawatha 
Throbbed,  and  shouted,  and  exulted, 
As  he  bore  the  red  deer  homeward. 


LESSON    XXXIX. 


Trail,  track;  footprints. 

In'  di  ca  ted,  pointed  out ;  shown. 

Murk'  y,  dark;  gloomy. 

Flam' BEAU,  {jiam'  bo,)  lighted  torch. 

Re  flect'  ing,  throwing  back. 

Lu'  RID  LY,  gloomily ;  dismally. 

Sus  pect'  ing,  mistrusting. 

As  sail'  ants,  assaulters. 

Eoh'  0,  (e^  0,)  sound  reverberated. 

Re  laps'  ED,  fell  back  •,  returned. 


En  vel'  op  ED,  inwrapped. 
Suf'  fo  ca  ted,  smothered. 
Brand'  ish  ing,  flourishing ;  waving. 
Rig'  id,   stiff.  [without  tents. 

Biv'  OUAC,  {Ml/  wok,)  pass  the  night 
Peer'  ed,  came  in  sight ;  appeared. 
De  cliv'  i  ty,  gradual  descent. 
Pro  long'  ed,    lengthened  ;    con- 
tinued. 
Com'  rade,  companion ;  associate. 


A  DESPERATE  ENCOUNTER   WITH   A   PANTHER^ 

Boys  Book  of  Advkntukes, 

1.  I  HAD  left  the  hunting  party  more  than  an  hour,  when 
I  came  upon  the  track  of  my  old  friend  Konwell,  who  was. 


NUMBKR    FOUR 


151 


/ith  his  dogs,  on  the  bloody  trail  of  a  panther.  The  animal 
/Qust  have  had  one  of  his  legs  broken ;  this  was  indicated  by 
the  marks  on  the  soft  ground,  and  it  was  plain  that  the 
cracks  were  made  by  three  feet  instead  of  four,  and  accom- 
panied by  blood  at  every  leap. 

2.  I  determined  to  follow ;  and,  after  a  tramp  of  nearly 
an  hour,  I  overtook  my  friend  at  the  entrance  of  a  cavern, 
where  he  stood  waiting  for  me.  The  wounded  animal  had 
taken  refuge  in  this  cave,  leaving  us  to  do  whatever  we 
thought  best.  The  poor  beast  doubtless  supposed  that 
within  this  murky  recess  he  was  safe  from  pursuit ;  but  he 
was  mistaken.  Konwell  informed  me  that  he  had  hidden  a 
bundle  of  pine  splinters  in  a  gulley,  about  half  a  mile  dis- 
tant, and  that  if  I  would  keep  guard  over  the  mouth  of  the 
cave,  he  would  go  and  bring  it. 

3.  I  agreed  to  this  measure ;  and,  with  ready  gun  and 
drawn  knife,  prepared  for  any  attack  that  might  be  made. 
I  lay  down  at  the  entrance  of  the  panther's  cave.  My 
friend  soon  returned,  bringing  the  pine,  as  he  had  promised. 
His  next  movement  was  to  kindle  a  large  fire  at  the  mouth 
of  the  cave,  at  which  we  lighted  our  torches ;  and,  having 
taken  the  flambeaus  in  our  left  hand,  while  we  carried  our 
guns  in  the  right,  we  cautiously  entered  the  cave.  I  crept 
on  before ;  but  the  space  within  soon  became  so  high  and 
roomy,  that  we  could  stand  upright,  and  keep  close  to  each 
other. 

4.  Bending  toward  the  left,  the  cavity  extended  a  consid- 
erable distance  within  the  hill.  After  we  had  advanced 
about  two  hundred  steps,  we  saw  the  glaring  eyes  of  the 
wounded  beast,  which  gleamed  forth  like  two  fiery  balls, 
reflecting  most  luridly  the  light  of  our  torches.  Konwell 
now  took  my  flambeau  and  stepped  behind  me.  I  leveled 
my  gun  in  the  direction  of  those  flaming  eyes,  and  fired. 


J_52  SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

After  the  report,  we  heard  a  bustle ;  but  could  not  exactlj 
make  out  what  it  meant. 

5.  I  reloaded  my  gun,  resumed  my  torch,  and  Konwell 
now  took  his  place  in  front. '  But,  as  those  flaming  eyes 
were  no  longer  to  be  seen,  we  felt  obliged  to  go  farther. 
Our  guns  ready  loaded,  we  believed  ourselves  to  be  prepared 
for  any  thing.  We  proceeded  carefully,  as  men  are  likely 
to  do  when  suspecting  danger,  when,  instantly,  the  panther 
started  up  from  a  hollow,  in  which  he  was  lying,  quite  close 
to  our  feet. 

6.  It  was  a  fearful  sight  to  look  upon  him  as  he  stood 
with  ears  laid  back,  his  white  teeth  set  together,  as  if  in 
intense  anger,  and  those  wide  open  eyes  glowing  and  spark- 
ling as  they  rested  upon  us,  his  assailants.  I  can  never 
forget  his  appearance.  In  a  moment  our  guns  were  dis- 
charged, and  the  cave  returned  the  thundering  echo.  We 
had  both  fired  so  precisely  at  the  same  moment,  that  neither 
of  us  could  believe  the  other  had  discharged  his  gun. 

7.  We  were  certain  that  our  enemy  had  been  struck,  but 
we  knew  not  whether  killed  or  only  disabled.  Quick  as 
thought,  we  dropped  our  guns  and  drew  our  knives  from  the 
sheath.  And  haste  was  necessary;  for  the  echo  had  not 
relapsed  into  silence,  before  we  felt  the  weight  of  the  pan- 
ther against  us ;  and  we  began  cutting  at  him  with  our  knives, 
and,  at  the  same  moment,  in  consequence  of  our  hurried 
movements,  our  torches  died  out,  and  we  were  left,  in  utter 
darkness. 

8.  Deafened  by  the  noise  and  utterly  bewildered,  I  turned 
to  fly  from  the  now  raging  enemy,  and  only  became  perfectly 
aware  of  what  I  was  doing,  when  I  found  myself  standing 
beside  Konwell  outside  the  cave  in  the  open  air.  I  only 
know  now,  that,  enveloped  in  thick  darkness,  and  almost 
suffocated  with  the  smoke  of  gunpowder,  I  groped  about. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  3^53 

not  knowing  what  I  wished  or  intended ;  and  that  Konwell, 
^t  last,  drew  me  forcibly  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave. 

9.  There  we  stood,  each  one  brandishing  his  hunting- 
knife  in  his  right  hand,  and  holding  the  extinguished  torch 
in  the  left ;  as  we  looked  on  each  other,  we  scarcely  knew 
whether  to  laugh  or  to  be  frightened  at  the  strange  figures 
we  made.  We  were  black  with  powder-smoke,  covered  with 
sweat  and  blood,  and  our  clothing  torn  to  rags. 

10.  Konwell  complained  of  a  pain  in  his  breast.  I  opened 
the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  and  found  two  deep  gashes  made  by 
the  panther's  claws,  extending  from  the  left  shoulder  to  the 
pit  of  the  stomach.  I  also  received  a  few  scratches,  but  our 
stout  hunting-shirts  were  torn  to  shreds. 

11.  Until  this  moment,  neither  of  us  had  felt  that  we 
were  wounded ;  and  even  now,  before  we  began  to  think  of 
dressing  those  wounds,  we  made  a  large  fire  at  the  mouth  of 
the  cavern,  in  order  to  prevent  the  panther  from  coming 
forth.  This  done,  we  sat  down  beside  the  genial  blaze  to 
wash  and  bind  up  our  scratches,  and  consult  on  what  plan  it 
was  now  best  to  proceed. 

12.  That  the  panther  was  still  in  the  cave  we  were 
certain ;  but,  whether  living  or  dead,  we  did  not  know :  at 
all  events,  he  was  wounded ;  for  our  hunting-knives  were 
covered  with  blood  quite  up  to  the  hilt.  But  we  had  no 
choice  left ;  we  must  return ;  for  our  guns  and  Konwell' s 
powder-flask,  which  the  animal  dragged  off  with  him,  still 
lay  within  the  cavern.  We  therefore  plucked  up  new 
courage ;  and,  having  relighted  our  torches,  we  brandished 
our  knives,  and  prepared,  though  not  without  some  heart 
throbbings,  once  more  to  enter  the  panther's  den. 

13.  With  light  and  cautious  steps,  lest  we  might  be  as 
unpleasantly  surprised  as  we  had  been  when  we  made  our 
hasty  retreat,  we  advanced,  holding  our  torches  before  >us, 

4  U  1^ 


154  SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

to  the  spot  where  we  had  dropped  our  guns,  and  without 
meeting  with  any  hinderance  from  our  enemy.  Once  mor« 
in  possession  of  our  trusty  weapons,  we  reloaded  them,  and 
stepped  forward  with  lighter  hearts,  yet  still  with  great 
caution,  when  Konwell  exclaimed,  as  he  raised  the  flaming 
pine  high  above  his  head,  and  pointed  with  it  in  a  certain 
direction,  "  See  !  there  he  is  /" 

14.  This  was  the  first  word  that  had  been  spoken  since  we 
reentered  the  cavern.  I  looked  in  the  indicated  direction, 
and  there,  indeed,  lay  the  panther,  stretched  out  at  full 
length,  but  no*  longer  dangerous.  His  eyes  were  set,  his 
limbs  were  rigid, — the  last  agony  was  over.  We  skinned 
and  cut  him  up  as  he  lay.  All  three  bullets  had  struck  him, 
and  both  knives  penetrated  his  body;  and  it  must  have  been 
in  the  death-struggle  that  he  leaped  upon  us. 

15.  When  our  work  was  ended,  and  we  again  came  to  the 
open  air,  the  sun  was  low  in  the  horizon,  and  all  haste  was 
necessary  that  we  should  set  out  on  our  forest-path  without 
further  delay.  Our  wounds  smarted  not  a  little,  and, 
although  we  took  time  once  more  to  wash  them,  they  became 
so  stiff  that  our  progress  was  both  toilsome  and  tedious. 
We  soon  became  convinced  that  we  should  not  succeed  in 
reaching  our  companions  while  daylight  remained,  and  we 
determined  to  bivouac  for  the  night,  at  the  foot  of  a  rocky 
declivity,  which  promised  a  good  shelter  from  the  cutting 
wind. 

16.  To  add  to  our  discomfort,  hunger  began  to  make  itself 
painfully  felt ;  but  this  was  soon  overpowered  by  weariness, 
and,  having  gathered  up  the  dry  pine  branches,  we  kindled 
up  a  good  fire,  and,  without  troubling  ourselves  to  prepare 
any  thing  for  supper,  we  stretched  ourselves  on  the  grass 
before  it,  and  found  the  warmth  most  grateful. 

17.  Worn  out  by  the  toils  of  the  day,  in  a  few  minutes 


NUMBER    FOUR.  155 

Konwell  was  fast  asleep ;  but,  although  much  inclined  to 
follow  his  example,  I  was  prevented  by  the  restlessness  of 
my  dog,  which  seemed  to  wish  to  warn  me  of  the  presence 
of  danger.  The  faithful  animal,  cringing  closely  to  me,  laid 
his  nose  on  my  shoulder,  raising  his  head  from  time  to  time, 
and  whiiied,  as  though  he  wished  to  communicate  something, 
and  then,  for  a  few  moments,  would  remain  quiet.  Then, 
suddenly,  he  would  rise  up  as  in  the  attitude  of  listening, 
occasionally  uttering  a  low  growl. 

18.  Completely  awakened  by  this  strange  behavior  on  the 
part  of  my  faithful  dog,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  heard  a 
slight  rustling  among  the  dry  bushes,  and,  rising  up  to  a 
half-sitting  posture,  I  looked  toward  the  rock  behind  me, 
and,  to  my  great  astonishment,  became  aware  of  a  pair  of 
glaring  eyes  fastened  upon  me.  As  my  head  was  between 
the  fire  and  those  fearful  eyes,  I  could  plainly  distinguish 
the  fiery  balls  as,  reflected  on  by  the  red  light,  they  peered 
above  the  naked  rocks. 

19.  It  was  a  panther,  and  evidently,  from  the  position  in 
which  I  saw  it,  was  ready  for  a  spring.  Happily  on  this,  as 
on  every  other  night,  my  trusty  gun  lay  close  beside  me.  I 
seized  it,  and,  half  rising,  so  that  the  fire  behind  me  afibrded 
light  for  a  steady  aim,  I  leveled  it  exactly  between  the  eyes. 
I  fired,  the  bullet  sped  on  its  deadly  errand,  and  the  crack 
of  the  noble  rifle,  thundering  against  the  steep  rocks,  re- 
turned with  loud  and  prolonged  echo. 

f  0.  Konwell,  to  whom  the  report  of  a  gun  was  ever  the 
sweetest  music,  now  started  up,  as  if  roused  by  an  electric 
shock,  and  grasped  his  gun.  The  dog  continued  his  barking, 
smelling  all  around,  and  looking  in  my  face  as  if  to  inquire 
in  what  direction  he  should  go.  There  was  no  rustling 
movement  on  the  rock,  and  the  bullet  must  have  taken 
effect. 


156  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

21.  Konwell  shook  his  head  as  he  inquired,  "  Why  I  had 
shot?"  Without  answering,  I  began  to  reload  mj  gun: 
this  finished,  I  took  up  a  blazing  pine  brand  from  the  fire, 
and  proceeded  to  climb  the  steep  wall  of  rock,  that  raised 
itself  like  a  barrier,  about  twenty  steps  distant  from  the 
spot  upon  which  we  rested.  Here  I  found  an  old  ^panther, 
the  largest  I  had  ever  seen,  lying  dead — my  well-directed 
bullet  had  finished  him.  I  flung  the  body  over  the  rock, 
and  my  old  comrade  dragged  him  to  the  fire. 

22.  The  ball  had  struck  him  directly  in  the  right  eye, 
passing  through  the  brain.  He  was  a  fearful-looking  animal, 
with  terrible  teeth  and  claws,  and  the  more  to  be  dreaded, 
as,  when  we  cut  him  up,  his  stomach  was  found  entirely 
empty.  I  believed  that  hunger  had  driven  him  so  close  to 
the  fire ;  but  Konwell  thought  he  had  scented  the  fresh 
venison  we  had  with  us.  Be  that  as  it  may,  there  was  little 
doubt  but  that  he  would  have  made  a  leap,  as  soon  as  the 
intervening  fire  had  burned  down ;  to  its  friendly  presence, 
therefore,  on  this  occasion,  as  a  means  of  Providence,  we 
owed  our  lives. 

Questions. — 1.  What  had  Konwell  driven  into  a  den  ?  2.  "What  prep- 
aration did  he  make,  before  entering  into  the  cavern  ?  3.  How  far  had  tho 
men  proceeded  before  they  saw  the  panther  ?  4.  Describe  the  appearance 
of  the  panther,  as  they  came  near  him  after  the  first  shot.  5.  What  did  tho 
panther  do  after  the  men  both  fired  at  him  ?  6.  Did  they  finally  succeed  in 
killing  the  panther  ?  t.  Describe  the  manner  in  which  they  killed  another 
panther. 

LESSON   XL. 

Rap'  id$,  part  of  a  river  where  the  ^  A  hot',  sea  term  used  in  hailing  a 

current  is  swift.  |  Quaff,  drink  largely.  [vesseL 

Tur'  bu  lencb,  violent  agitation.  Hoist,  raise ;  lift  up.  [g^aga 

Helm,  instrument  for  steering  a  ves-  Blas  phem'  ing,  uttering  impious  lan- 

Ei  cub'  aiQN,  tour ;  ramble.       [sel.  \  Sheiek'  ing,  screaming ;  crying  out. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  257 

THE    POWER    OF    HABIT* 

John.  B.  Gough. 

1.  I  REMEMBER  once  riding  from  Buffalo  to  the  Niagara 
Falls.     I  said  to  a  gentleman,  "  What  river  is  that,  sir?" 

"  That,"  said  he,  "  is  Niagara  river." 

2.  "Well,  it  is  a  beautiful  stream,"  said  I;  "bright, 
and  fair,  and  glassy.     How  far  off  are  the  rapids  ?" 

"  Only  a  mile  or  two,"  was  the  reply. 

3.  "Is  it  possible  that  only  a  mile  from  us,  we  shall  find 
the  water  in  the  turbulence  which  it  must  show  near  the 
Falls'?" 

"  You  will  find  it  so,  sir."  And  so  I  found  it ;  and  the 
first  sight  of  Niagara  I  shall  never  forget. 

4.  Now,  launch  your  bark  on  that  Niagara  river ;  it  is 
bright,  smooth,  beautiful,  and  glassy.  There  is  a  ripple  at 
the  bow ;  the  silver  wake  you  leave  behind,  adds  to  your 
enjoyment.  Down  the  stream  you  glide,  oars,  sails,  and 
helm  in  proper  trim,  and  you  set  out  on  your  pleasure 
excursion. 

5.  Suddenly,  some  one  cries  out  from  the  bank,  ^'- Young 
men  J  ahoy .'" 

"What  is  it?" 

''''The  rapids  are  below  youV^ 

6.  "  Ha  !  ha  !  we  have  heard  of  the  rapids ;  but  we  are 
not  such  fools  as  to  get  there.  If  we  go  too  fast,  then  we 
shall  up  with  the  helm,  and  steer  to  the  shore  ;  we  will  set 
the  mast  in  the  socket,  hoist  the  sail,  and  speed  to  the  land. 
Then  on,  boys  ;  don't  be  alarmed, — there  is  no  danger." 

7.  ^^  Young  men^  ahoy  there  T'' 
"What  is  it?" 

"  The  rapids  are  below  you .'" 

8.  "Ha!  ha!  we  will  laugh  and  quaff;  all  things 
delight  us.     What  care  we  for  the  future !'    No  man  ever 


158  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

saw  it.  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.  We  will 
enjoy  life  while  we  ma-y, — will  catch  pleasure  as  it  ilies. 
This  is  enjoyment ;  time  enough  to  steer  out  of  danger 
■when  we  are  sailing  swiftly  with  the  current." 

9.  {ff)   "YouNa  MEN,  ahoy!" 
^'What  isit?" 

"Beware  !    beware!     The  rapids  are  below  you!" 

10.  "  Now  you  see  the  water  foaming  all  around.  See 
how  fast  you  pass  that  point !  Up  with  the  helm  I  Now 
turn!  Pull  hard!  (=)  Quick!  quick!  quick!  pull  for 
your  lives  !  pull  till  the  hlood  starts  from  your  nostrils,  and 
the  veins  stand  like  whip-cords  upon  your  brow !  Set  the 
mast  in  the  socket !  hoist  the  sail !  {si)  Ah  !  ah  !  it  is  too 
late  !     Shrieking,  howling,  blaspheming  ;  over  they  go." 

11.  Thousands  go  over  the  rapids  of  intemperance  every 
year,  through  the  power  of  habit^  crying  all  the  while, 
*'  When  I  find  out  that  it*  is  iiijuring  we,  I  will  give  it  up .'" 

Questions. — 1.  Where  are  the  Niagara  Falls  ?  2.  How  does  the  water 
appear  just  above  tlie  Falls  ?  3.  How  does  it  appear  farther  up  ?  4.  What 
reply  are  the  young  men  represented  as  making,  when  first  told  the  rapids 
were  below  them  ?  5.  What,  when  told  the  second  time  ?  6.  What  must 
they  do,  to  escape  destruction  ?     T.  What  is  said  of  fhe  power  of  habit  ? 

LESSON    XLI. 

Be  sot'  ted,  stupefied.  s  Plight'  ed,  pledged. 

Bur  lesqu'  ed,  mocked ;  derided,  j  For  sworn',  perjured. 

De  fi'  ed,  set  at  defiance.  Stamp'  ed,  impressed ;  fixed  deeply. 

Cher'  ish  ed,  fostered  ;  encouraged.      Blight,  blasting  disease. 

Strew'  ed,  scattered ;  spread.  j  A  tone',  make  reparation. 

Liv'  id,  discolored ;  black  and  blue,  j  Pro  claim'  ed,  openly  declared. 

Mir'  ror  ed,  reflected,  as  in  a  glass.  \  Loathe,  detest ;  abhor. 

Re  veal'  ing$,  disclosures.  \  Bev'  er  age,  drink. 

*^  Temperate  drinking. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  159 

These  verses  should  be  read  in  a  firm,  half-indignant,  yet  imploring 
tone  of  voice, — except  the  last  verse,  which  should  be  expressed  in  a  very 
decide**!  and  impassioned  manner. 

THE  DRUNKARO^S  DAUGHTER** 

1.  Go,  feel  what  I  have  felt, 

Go,  bear  what  I  have  borne  ; 
Sink  'neath  a  blow  a  father  dealt. 

And  the  cold,  proud  world's  scorn; 
Thus  struggle  on  from  year  to  year. 

Thy  sole  relief, — the  scalding  tear. 

2.  Go,  w^eep  as  I  have  wept, 

O'er  a  loved  father's  fall, 
See  every  cherished  promise  swept,— 

Youth's  sweetness  turned  to  gall ; 
Hope's  faded  flowers  strewed  all  the  way 
That  led  me  up  to  woman's  day. 

3.  Go,  kneel  as  I  have  knelt ; 

Implore,  beseech,  and  pray, 
Strive  the  besotted  heart  to  melt, 

The  downward  course  to  stay  j 
Be  cast  with  bitter  curse  aside, — 
Thy  prayers  burlesqued,  thy  tears  defied. 

4.  Go,  stand  where  I  have  stood. 

And  see  the  strong  man  bow  ; 
With  gnashing  teeth,  lips  bathed  in  blood. 

And  cold  and  livid  brow ; 
Go,  catch  his  wandering  glance,  and  see 

There  mirrored,  his  soul's  misery. 

*  These  beautiful  and  touching  verses  were  written  by  a  young  lady,  in  reply 
to  a  friend  who  had  called  her  a  monomaniac  on  the  subject  of  temperance 


160  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

5.  Go,  hear  what  I  have  heard, — 

The  sobs  of  sad  despair, 
As  memory's  feeling  fount  hath  stirred. 

And  its  revealings  there 
Have  told  him  what  he  might  have  been, 
Had  he  the  drunkard's  fate  foreseen. 


6.  Go  to  my  mother's  side. 

And  her  crushed  spirit  cheer  ; 
Thine  own  deep  anguish  hide, 

Wipe  from  her  cheek  the  tear ; 
Mark  her  dimmed  eye, — her  furrowed  brow, 
The  gray  that  streaks  her  dark  hair  now ; 
Her  toil-worn  frame,  her  trembling  limb. 
And  trace  the  ruin  back  to  him 
Whose  plighted  faith,  in  early  youth. 
Promised  eternal  love  and  truth ; 
But  who,  forsworn,  hath  yielded  up 
That  promise  to  the  deadly  cup. 
And  led  her  down  from  love  and  light, 
From  all  that  made  her  pathway  bright, 
And  chained  her  there  'mid  want  and  strife, 
That  lowly  thing, — a  drunkard's  wife  ! 
And  stamped  on  childhood's  brow  so  mild. 
That  withering  blight,  a  drunkard^ s  child! 

7.  Gp,  hear,  and  see,  and  feel,  and  know. 

All  that  my  soul  liath  felt  and  known. 
Then  look  upon  the  wine- cup's  glow; 

See  if  its  brightness  can  atone ; 
Think  if  its  flavor  you  will  try. 
If  all  proclaimed,  '"  Ti5  drink  and  dieP 


NUMBER    FOUR.  161 

8.  Tell  me  I  hate  the  bowl ; 
Hate  is  a  feeble  word  : 
(/)  I  loathe^  ABHOR, — my  very  soul 
With  strojig  disgust  is  stirred. 
Whene'er  I  see,  or  hear,  or  tell, 

Of  the  DARK  BEVERAGE  OF  HELL  !! 

Questions. — 1.  By  whom  was  this  poetry  written  ?  2.  What  circum- 
stance induced  her  to  write  it  ?  3.  What  is  the  meaning  of  monomaniac  ? 
Ans.  One  who  is  deranged  in  a  single  faculty  of  the  mind,  or  with  regard  to 
a  particular  subject,  the  other  faculties  being  in  regular  exercise.  4.  What 
reasons  does  she  assign  for  her  hatred  of  alcoholic  drink  ?  5.  What  does 
she  say  of  her  mother  ?  6.  With  what  tone  of  voice  should  the  last  verse 
be  read?  See  page  40,  Rule  4.  '7.  Why  are  some  words  and  sentences 
printed  in  Italics  and  Capitals?    See  page  22,  Note  III. 


— ^^->^9^^^^' 


LESSON   XLII. 

Rec'  om)$,  accounts ;  minutes.  \  Mo  rose',  sour ;  ill-humored. 

Ad  vent'  ure$,  doings ;  strange  oc-  j  Re  volt'  ing,  disgusting ;  abhorrent. 
En  cum'  ber,  load ;  clog,  [currences.  Con  tem'  plate,  consider ;  think 
Grat  I  Fi  ca' TiON,  indulgence.  |  Rel' ic,  remains.  [upon. 

Scheme,  plan ;  progress.       [eration.     In  ves'  ti  gate,  examine ;  look  into. 
De  lib  er  a' TiON,  thought;  consid-     Ac  com' plish  ed,  eSected. 
Lux  u'  Ri  ous,  pleasure-lovihg.  Pic  turesque,'  (pikiyuresJc^,) grand] 

Ex  PE  Di"  tion,  tour ;  enterprise.       i      beautiful ;  picture-like. 


THE    TWO    YOUNG    TRAVELERS. 

Merry's  Musettm. 

1.  Horace  and  Herman,  two  young  men  who  were 
friends,  set  out  to  travel  in  distant  countries.  Before  they 
departed,  each  had  formed  a  pta7i  of  proceeding.  Horace 
determined  to  give  himself  up  entirely  to  pleasure, — to  go 
wherever  his  humor  might  dictate, — and  to  keep  no  records 


152  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

of  his  adventures.  In  short,  he  resolved  to  erijoy  himself 
as  much  as  possible,  and,  by  no  means,  to  encumber  his 
mind  with  cares,  duties,  or  troubles  of  any  kind. 

2.  Herman  was  as  fond  of  amusement  as  Horace ;  but  the 
mode  he  adopted  for  the  gratification  of  his  wishes,  was 
quite  different.  In  the  first  place,  he  made  out  a  scheme 
of  his  travels  :  he  procured  maps,  read  books,  and,  after 
mature  deliberation,  adopted  a  certain  route,  as  most  likely 
to  afibrd  him  pleasure  as  well  as  instruction. 

3.  In  the  formation  of  this  plan,  he  spent  several  weeks ; 
and,  in  this  occupation,  he  found  quite  as  much  satisfaction 
as  he  afterwards  did  in  traveling.  Thus  he  obtained  one 
great  advantage  over  his  idle  and  luxurious  friend,  who  fool- 
ishly thought  that  the  essence  of  enjoyment  lay  in  freedom 
from  thought,  restraint,  and  toil.  Even  before  they  set  out 
on  their  journey,  Herman  had  actually  found  nearly  as 
m^uch  pleasure  as  Horace  received  in  the  whole  course  of  his 
expedition. 

4.  The  two  young  men  started  together ;  and,  as  there  were 
then  no  canals  or  railroads,  they  both  set  out  on  foot.  They 
had  not  proceeded  far  before  they  separated, — Horace  taking 
one  road  and  Herman  another. 

5.  After  the  lapse  of  three  years,  they  both  returned; 
but  what  a  diiGference  between  them-!  Horace  was  morose 
and  dissatisfied ;  he  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  world,  but, 
as  he  had  traveled  with  no  other  design  than  to  gratify 
himself  from  hour  to  hour,  he  had  soon  exhausted  the  cup 
of  pleasure,  and  found  nothing  at  the  bottom  but  the  bitter 
dregs  of  discontent.  f 

6.  He  pursued  pleasure,  till,  at  last,  he  found  the  pursuit 
to  be  distasteful  and  revolting.  He  grew  tired  even  of 
amusement.  He  indulged  his  tastes,  humors,  and  passions, 
until  indulgence  itself  was  disgusting.     When  he  returned 


NUMBER    FOUR.  1Q^ 

to  his  friends,  lie  had  laid  up  nothing  in  his  memory,  by  the 
relation  of  which  he  could  amuse  them ;  he  had  kept  no 
record  of  things  he  had  seen ;  he  brought  back  no  store  of 
pleasing  and  useful  recollections  for  himself,  or  others. 
Such  was  the  result  of  three  years'  travel  for  pleasure. 

7.  It  was  quite  otherwise  with  Herman.  Adhering  to  his 
plans,  he  visited  a  great  many  places,  and,  each  day,  he 
recorded  in  his  journal  what  he  had  seen.  Whenever  he 
met  with  an  interesting  object,  he  stopped  to  contemplate  it. 
If  it  was  some  aged  relic,  famous  in  history,  he  took  pains  to 
investigate  its  story,  and  to  write  it  down.  If  it  w^as  an 
object  of  interest  to  the  eye,  he  made  a  sketch  of  it  in  a 
book  which  he  kept  for  that  purpose. 

8.  In  this  way,  Herman  accomplished  three  good  objects. 
In  the  first  place,  by  taking  pleasure  in  a  moderate  way, 
and  mixing  with  it  a  little  toil  and  industry,  he  prevented 
that  cloying  surfeit  which,  at  last,  sickened  and  disgusted 
Horace. 

9.  In  the  second  place,  he  greatly  increased  his  enjoy- 
ments by  the  plan  he  adopted.  Merely  executing  a  plan 
is  agreeable,  and  a  source  of  great  pleasure.  It  is  natural 
to  derive  happiness  from  following  out  a  design,  —  from 
seeing,  hour  by  hour,  day  by  day,  how  results  come  about, 
in  conformity  to  our  intentions. 

10.  But  this  was  not  the  o?ili/  advantage  which  Herman 
received  from  his  system.  The  very  toil  he  bestowed ;  the 
investigations  he  made ;  the  pleasant  thoughts  and  curious 
knowledge  that  were  unfolded  to  his  mind ;  the  excitement 
he  found  in  his  exertions ;  the  pleasure  he  took  in  drawing 
picturesque  scenes ;  all  constituted  a  rich  harvest  of  pleasure, 
which  was  wholly  denied  to  Horace. 

11.  Thus  it  was  that  labor  and  industry,  exerted  in  car- 
rying out  a  plan,  afforded  the  young  traveler  a  vast  deal  of 


154  SANDERS*    UNIOH    SERIES. 

gratification.  The  very  things  that  Horace  looked  upon  as 
hateful,  were,  in  fact,  the  sources  of  his  friend's  most  per- 
manent enjoyment. 

12.  In  the  third  place,  Herman  had  come  back  laden 
"with  rich  stores  of  knowledge,  observation,  and  experience. 
Not  only  was  his  journal  rich  in  tales,  legends,  scenes,  inci- 
dents, and  historical  records,  but  in  putting  these  things 
down  on  paper,  his  memory  had  been  improved,  and  he  had 
acquired  the  habit  of  observing  and  remembering.  His 
mind  was  full  of  pleasant  things,  and  nothing  could  be  more 
interesting  than  to  hear  him  tell  of  his  travels,  and  of  what 
he  had  seen. 

13.  While  Horace  was  dull,  silent,  and  sour,  Herman 
was  full  of  conversation,  life,  and  interest.  The  one  was 
happy',  the  other  unhappy^ ;  one  was  agreeable',  the  other 
disagreeable^ ;  one  had  exhausted  the  cup  of  pleasure',  the 
other  seemed  always  to  have  the  cup  full  and  sparkling 
before  him\  It  was  agreed  on  all  hands  that  Horace  was  a 
disagreeable  person,  and  everybody  shunned  him ;  while 
Herman  was  considered  by  all  a  most  agreeable  com- 
panion, and  everybody  sought  his  society. 

14.  So  much  for  the  two  travelers ;  one^  a  luxurious 
lover  of  pleasure,  who  thought  only  of  the  passing  moment, 
and,  in  his  folly,  abused  and  threw  away  his  powers  of 
enjoyment ;  the  other ^  a  lover  of  pleasure  also ;  but  who 
pursued  it  moderately,  with  a  wise  regard  to  the  future,  and 
careful  attention,  every  day,  to  the  rules  of  duty ;  and  who 
thus  secured  his  true  happiness. 

Questions. — 1.  "What  plan  had  Horace  determined  to  pursue  while  travel- 
ing? 2.  What  was  Herman's  plan?  3.  What  is  said  of  Horace,  after  hia 
return  ?  4.  How  was  it  with  Herman  ?  5.  What  is  said  of  the  two  in  con- 
trast ?  6.  What  effect  has  the  emphasis  on  the  place  of  the  accent  in  the 
words  unhappy,  and  disagreeable,  13th  paragraph  ?    See  page  22,  note  Y, 


MtfMBER    FOUR.  -^Q^ 


LESSON   XLIII. 

Im'  port,  meaning.  i  Ex  ul  ta'  tion,  (x  like  gz^)  triumph. 

Geov'  el  ing,  mean ;  creeping.  Ri'  val$,  competitors. 

A  chieve' MENT,  performance.  Dig' ni  ty,  elevation;  majesty. 

As  PI  ra'  tiox,  wish;  ardent  desire.  |  Or' a  cle$,  wise  words  or  sentences. 

San'  guine,  ardent ;  hopeful.  A'  pex,  hight ;  summit. 

Re'  al  iz  ED,  attained.  |  Ten'  e  ment,  dweUing ;  here  means, 

In  spi  Ra'  tion,  natural  impulse.  Ad  mon'  ish,  warn.  [the  body. 

State'  li  ness,  dignity ;  majesty.       j  Rapt'  ur  ous,  joyous ;  ecstatic. 

Ad  vent'urous,  daring;  enterprising. i  An  tic  i  pa' tion,  foretaste. 

Phi  los'  O  phy,  (philo,  love ;  sophy,  wisdom^)  love  of  wisdom ;  reason 
of  things.    See  Sanders  &  McElligott's  Analysis,  page  236,  Ex.  334. 


HIGHER! 

1.  Higher  !  It  is  a  word  of  noble  import.  It  lifts  the 
soul  of  man  from  low  and  groveling  pursuits,  to  the  achieve- 
ment of  great  and  noble  deeds,  and  ever  keeps  the  object  of 
its  aspiration  in  view,  till  his  most  sanguine  expectations  are 
fully  realized. 

2.  Higher  !  lisps  the  infant  that  clasps  its  parent's 
knee,  and  makes  its  feeble  effort  to  rise  from  the  floor.  It 
is  the  first  inspiration  of  childhood  to  burst  the  narrow  con- 
fines of  the  cradle,  and  to  exercise  those  feeble,  tottering 
limbs,  which  are  to  walk  forth  in  the  stateliness  of  manhood. 

3.  Higher  !  echoes  the  proud  school-boj  in  his  swing ; 
or,  as  he  climbs  the  tallest  tree  of  the  forest,  that  he  may 
look  down  upon  his  less  adventurous  comrades  with  a  flush 
of  exultation, — and  abroad  over  the  fields,  the  meadows,  and 
his  native  village. 

4.  Higher  !  earnestly  breathes  the  student  of  philosophy 
and  nature.  He  has  a  host  of  rivals  ;  but  he  must  excel 
tl^em  all.  The  midnight  oil  burns  dim ;  but  he  finds  light 
and  knowledge  in  the  lamps  of  heaven,  and  his  soul  is  never 


^QQ  SANDEiiS'    UJSION    SERIES. 

weary,  when  the  last  of  them  is  hid  by  the  splendors  of  the 
morning. 

5.  And  Higher  !  his  voice  thunders  forth,  when  t^e 
dignity  of  manhood  has  mantled  his  form,  and  the  multitude 
is  listening  with  delight  to  his  oracles,  burning  with  elo- 
quence, and  ringing  like  true  steel  in  the  cause  of  Fi^eedom 
and  Right.  And  when  time  has  changed  his  locks  to  silver, 
— when  the  young  and  the  old  unite  to  do  him  honor,  he 
still  breathes  forth  from  his  generous  heart  fond  wishes  for 
their  welfare. 

6.  Higher  yet  !  He  has  reached  the  apex  of  earthly 
honor ;  yet  liis  spirit  burns  as  warm  as  in  youth,  though  with 
a  steadier  and  purer  light.  And  even  now,  while  his  frail 
tenement  begins  to  admonish  him,  that  ''  the  time  of  his 
departure  is  at  hand,"  he  looks  forward,  with  rapturous 
anticipation,  to  the  never-fading  glory,  attainable  only  in 
the  presence  of  the  Most  High. 

Questions. — 1.  What  is  said  of  the  word  Higher,  first  paragraph  ?  2. 
When  does  the  school-boy  say  Higher  ?  3.  What  is  said  of  the  student  ? 
4.  What,  when  he  arrives  at  manhood  ?  5.  What,  when  he  becomes  old  ? 
6.  Where  is  the  passage  within  the  quotation  to  be  found  ?  Ans.  2  Timothy, 
4th  chapter,  6th  verse. 


LESSON    XLIV. 

In  tens'  er,  more  fervent.  >  Fu'  ry,  rage ;  madness. 

Stub'  born,  unyielding ;  rugged.  \  Rave,  rage ;  become  furious. 

Deem,  think ;  imagine.  \  Hec'  tic,  habitual ;  continuous. 
Old'  en,  old ;  ancient.  Men'  tal,  intellectual. 

Cling$,  sticks ;  adheres  closely.  \  Wield,  sway ;  exert. 

Gal'  lant,  fine ;  noble.  \  Priv'  i  lege,  right ;  opportunity. 

T4WN'  ING,  wide-opening.  j  Dow'  er,  gift ;  portion. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  IQ'J 

LABOR** 

Cakoline  F.  Oenb. 

1.  Ho,  ye  who  at  the  anvil  toil, 

And  strike  the  sounding  blow, 
Where,  from  the  burning  iron's  breast, 

The  sparks  fly  to  and  fro, 
While  answering  to  the  hammer's  ring, 

And  fire's  intenser  glow  I — 
Oh,  while  ye  feel  'tis  hard  to  toil 

And  sweat  the  long  day  through, 
Eemember,  it  is  harder  still 

To  have  no  work  to  do  ! 

2.  Ho,  ye  who  till  the  stubborn  soil. 

Whose  hard  hands  guide  the  plow. 
Who  bend  beneath  the  summer  sun. 

With  burning  cheek  and  brow  ! — 
Ye  deem  the  curse  still  clings  to  earth 

From  olden  time  till  now ; 
But,  while  ye  feel  'tis  hard  to  toil 

And  labor  all  day  through, 
Remember,  it  is  harder  still 

jTb  have  no  work  to  do  ! 

3.  Ho,  ye  who  plow  the  sea's  blue  field. 

Who  ride  the  restless  wave, 
Beneath  whose  gallant  vessel's  keel 

There  lies  a  yawning  grave. 
Around  whose  bark  the  wint'ry  winds 

Like  fiends  of  fury  rave  ! — 

*  These  lines  were  suggested  by  the  simple  incident  of  an  industrious 
■wood-sawyer's  reply  to  a  man  who  told  Kim  that  his  was  a  hard  work. 
"  Yes,  it  is  hard,  to  be  sure ;  but  it  is  harder  to  do 
answer. 


168  SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

Oh,  while  ye  feel  'tis  hard  to  toil 

And  labor  long  hours  through, 
Remember,  it  is  harder  still 

To  have  no  work  to  do  ! 

4.  Ho,  ye  upon  whose  fevered  cheeks 

The  hectic  glow  is  bright, 
Whose  mental  toil  wears  out  the  day^ 

And  half  the  weary  night, 
Who  labor  for  the  souls  of  men, 

Champions  of  truth  and  right  I — - 
Although  ye  feel  your  toil  is  hard, 

Even  with  this  glorious  view, 
Eemember,  it  is  harder  still 

To  have  no  work  to  do  I 

5.  Ho,  all  who  labor, — all  who  strive  I 

Ye  wield  a  lofty  power ; 
Do  with  your  might,  do  with  your  strength. 

Fill  every  golden  hour ! 
The  glorious  privilege  to  do 

Is  man's  most  noble  dower. 
Oh,  to  your  birthright  and  yourselves 

To  your  own  souls  be  true ! 
A  weary,  wretched  life  is  theirs, 

Who  have  no  work  to  do  ! 

Questions.— 1.  "What  incident  suggested  these  thoughts  to  the  writer  ? 
2.  Who  toil  at  the  anvil  ?  3.  Who  till  the  stubborn  soil  ?  4.  Who  plow 
the  sea'g  blae  wave  ?  5.  Who  toil  mentally  ?  6.  Who  labor  for  the  souls 
of  men?  7.  What  is  man's  most  noble  dower?  8.  What  is  said  to  all 
these  different  laborers  ?  9.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  suffix  less  in  the 
word  restUss  f  See  Sanders  &  McElligott's  Analysis,  page  140,  Ex.  ]^87. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  ^^gg 

LESSON   XLV. 

E  Lio'  IT,  draw  forth.  [informed.  )  Ob'  sta  cle,  binderance  ;  impedi- 
In  tel'  lii  GENT,  knowing  ;  well-  Re  volt'  ed,  shrunk  back,  [meut 
Be  frain',  hold  in,  or  keep  back.  PoR'  ING,  earnestly  perusing. 

Ig  no  ra'  >ius,  ignorant  person.         |  Em'  i  nence,  distinction. 
Re  tort',  reply ;  answer  back.  In  for  ma'  tion,  knowledge. 

In  del'  I  BLY,  in  a  way  not  to  be  ef-  II  lit'  er  ate,  ignorant;  unlearned. 
Mys'te  rie$,  profound  secrets,  [faced.  Pro  fes'  sion,  business ;  employment. 
Ab  sorb'  ed,  engrossed ;  occupied.  Dis'  oi  plin  ed,  trained  ;  instructed. 
MoR  ti  Ft  ca'  tion,  deep  disappoint-  j  Con  tempt'  u  ous,  scornful ;  hatefuL 
ment,  i  An  tag'  o  nist,  opponent ;  adversary. 

THE    AMBITIOUS    APPRENTICE* 

1.  ''  How  far  is  it  from  here  to  the  sun?"  asked  Harmon 
Lee  of  his  father's  apprentice,  James  Wallace,  intending  by 
the  question  to  elicit  some  reply  that  would  exhibit  the  boy's 
ignorance. 

2.  James  Wallace,  a  boy  of  fourteen,  turned  his  bright, 
intelligent  eyes  upon  the  son  of  his  employer,  and  replied, 
''  I  don't  know,  Harmon.     How  far  is  it  ?" 

3.  There  was  something  so  honest  and  earnest  in  the  tone 
of  the  boy,  that,  much  as  Harmon  had  felt  disposed,  at  first, 
to  sport  with  his  ignorance,  he  could  not  refrain  from  giving 
him  a  true  answer.  Still,  his  contempt  for  the  ignorant 
apprentice  was  not  to  be  concealed,  and  he  replied,  "  Ninety- 
five  millions  of  miles,  you  ignoramus  !"  James  did  not 
retort ;  but,  repeating  over  in  his  mind  the  distance  named, 
fixed  it  indelibly  upon  his  memory. 

4.  On  the  same  evening,  after  he  had  finished  his  day's 
work,  he  obtained  a  small  text-book  on  astronomy,  which 
belonged  to  Harmon  Lee,  and  went  up  into  his  garret  with  a 
candle,  and  there,  alone,  attempted  to  dive  into  the  mysteries 
of  that  sublime  science.     As  he  read,  the  earnestness  of  his 

4U  I-  8    ' 


r 


170  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

• 

attention  fixed  nearly  every  fact  upon  his  mind.  So  intent 
was  he,  that  he  perceived  not  the  flight  of  lime,  until  the 
town-clock  struck  ten. 

5.  He  lay  down  upon  his  hard  bed,  and  gave  full  scope  to 
his  thouo'hts.  Hour  after  hour  passed  away,  but  he  could 
not  sleep,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  reviewing  the  new  and  won- 
derful things  he  had  read.  At  last,  wearied  nature  gave  way, 
and  he  fell  into  a  slumber,  filled  with  dreams  of  planets, 
moons,  comets,  and  fixed  stars. 

6.  The  next  morning  the  apprentice  boy  resumed  his  place 
at  the  work-bench  with  a  new  feeling ;  and,  with  this  feeling, 
was  mingled  one  of  regret,  that  he  could  not  go  to  school  as 
well  as  Harmon. 

^'  But  I  can  study  at  night,"  while  he  is  asleep,"  he  said  to 
himself 

7.  Just  then  Harmon  Lee  came  into  the  shop,  and, 
approaching  James,  said,  for  the  purpose  of  teasing  him, 
*'How  big  round  is  the  earth,  James?" 

''  Twenty-jive  thousand  miles^^^  was  the  quick  reply. 

8.  Harmon  looked  surprised,  for  a  moment,  and  then 
responded,  with  a  sneer, — for  he  was  not  a  kind-hearted  boy, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  very  selfish,  and  disposed  to  injure 
rather  than  do  good,  to  others, — "  Oh !  how  wonderfully  wise 
you  are  all  at  once  !  And  no  doubt  you  can  tell  how  many 
moons  Jupiter  has  ?     Come,  let  us  hear." 

9.  "  Jupiter  has  four  moons,"  James  answered,  with  some- 
thing of  exultation  in  his  tone. 

"  And,  no  doubt,  you  can  tell  how  many  rings  it  has  ?" 
*' Jupiter  has  no  rings.     Saturn  has  rings,  and  Jupiter 
belts,"  James  replied,  in  a  decisive  tone. 

10.  For  a  moment  or  two  Harmon  was  silent  with  sur- 
prise and  mortification,  to  think  that  his  father's  apprentice^ 
whom  he  esteemed  so  far  below  him,  should  be  possessed  of 


KUMBER    FOUR.  171 

knowledge  equal  to  his,  and  on  the  points  in  reference  to 
"which  he  had  chosen  to  question  him, — and  that  he  should  be 
able  to  convict  him  of  an  error,  into  which  he  had  purposely 
fallen. 

11.  "I  should  like  to  know  how  long  it  is  since  you 
became  so  wonderfully  wise,"  said  Harmon,  wnth  a  sneer. 

"Not  very  long,"  James  replied  calmly.  "I  have  been 
reading  one  of  your  books  on  astronomy." 

12.  "I  should  like  to  know  what  business  you  have  to 
touch  one  of  my  books !  You  had  better  be  minding  your 
work. " 

"  I  did  not  neglect  it,  Harmon ;  I  read  at  nighty  after  I 
was  done  with  my  work  ;  and  I  did  not  hurt  your  book." 

*'I  don't  care  if  you  didnH  hurt  it.  You  are  not  going 
to  have  my  books,  I  can  tell  you.  So,  you  just  let  them 
alone." 

13.  Poor  James's  heart  sank  within  him  at  this  unexpected 
obstacle,  so  suddenly  thrown  in  his  way.  He  had  no  money 
of  his  own  to  buy,  and  knew  of  no  one  from  whom  he  could 
borrow  the  book,  that  had  become  so  necessary  to  his  happi- 
ness. "  Do,  Harmon,"  he  said,  "  lend  me  the  book;  I  wdll 
take  good  care  of  it." 

"  No ;  I  will  not.  And  don't  you  dare  to  touch  it,"  was 
the  angry  reply. 

14.  James  Walkce  knew  well  enough  the  selfish  disposi- 
tion of  Harmon,  to  be  convinced  that  there  was  now  but  little 
hope  of  his  having  the  use  of  his  books,  except  by  stealth  ; 
and  from  that  his  naturally  open  and  honest  principles 
revolted.  All  day  he  thought  earnestly  of  the  means 
whereby  he  should  be  able  to  obtain  a  book  on  astronomy, 
to  quench  the  ardent  thirst  he  had  created  in  his  own  mind. 

15.  He  was  learning  the  trade  of  a  blind-maker.  Having 
been  already  an  apprentice  for  two  years,  and.  being  Indus- 


172  SANDERS'    UNIOIV    SERIES. 

trious  and  intelligent,  he  had  acquired  a  readiness  with  tools, 
and  much  skill  in  some  parts  of  his  trade.  While  sitting 
alone,  after  he  had  finished  his  work  for  the  day,  it  occurred 
to  him  that  he  might,  by  working  in  the  evening,  earn  some 
money,  and  with  it  buy  such  books  as  he  wanted. 

16.  By  consent  of  his  employer,  he  succeeded  in  getting 
a  small  job,  from  one  of  his  neighbors  ;  and,  in  a  short  time, 
by  working  evenings,  he  obtained  sufficient  money  to  pur- 
chase a  book  of  his  own,  and  had  a  half  dollar  left,  with 
which  he  bought  a  second-hand  dictionary.  Every  night 
found  him  poring  over  his  books ;  and,  as  soon  as  it  was 
light  enough  in  the  morning  to  see,  he  was  up  and  reading. 
During  the  day,  his  mind  was  pondering  over  the  things  he 
had  read,  while  his  hands  were  diligently  employed  in  the 
labor  assigned  him. 

17.  It  occurred,  just  at  this  time,  that  a  number  of  benev- 
olent individuals  established,  in  the  town  where  James  lived, 
one  of  those  excellent  institutions,  an  Apprentices'  Library. 
To  this  he  apphed,  and  obtained  the  books  he  needed.  And 
thus,  did  this  poor  apprentice  boy  lay  the  foundation  of 
future  eminence  and  usefulness.  At  the  age  of  twenty-one, 
he  was  master  of  his  trade  ;  and,  what  was  more,  had  laid 
up  a  vast  amount  of  general  and  scientific  information. 

18.  Let  us  now  turn  to  mark  the  progress  of  the  young 
student,  Harmon  Lee,  in  one  of  the  best  seminaries  in  his 
native  city,  and  afterwards  at  college.  The  idea  that  he  was 
to  be  a  lawyer,  soon  took  possession  of  his  mind,  and  this 
caused  him  to  feel  contempt  for  other  boys,  who  were  merely 
designed  for  trades  or  store-keeping. 

19.  Like  too  many  others,  he  had  no  love  for  learning. 
To  be  a  lawyer  he  thought  would  be  much  more  honorable 
than  to  be  a  mere  mechanic ;  and,  for  this  reason  almie,  he 
desired  to  be  one.    As  for  James  Wallace,  the  poor  illiterate 


NUMBER    FOUR.  172 

apprentice,  he  was  most  heartily  despised,  and  never  treated 
by  Harmon  with  the  least  degree  of  kind  consideration. 

20.  At  the  age  of  eighteen,  Harmon  was  sent  away  to  one 
of  the  eastern  universities,  and  there  remained  until  he  was 
twenty  years  of  age,  when  he  graduated,  and  came  home 
with  the  honorary  title  of  Bachelor  of  Arts.  On  the  very 
day  that  James  completed  his  term  of  apprenticeship, 
Harmon  was  admitted  to  the  bar. 

21.  From  some  cause,  James  determined  he  would  make 
law  Jus  profession.  To  the  acquirement  of  a  knowledge  of 
legal  matters,  therefore,  he  bent  all  the  energies  of  a  well 
disciplined  mind.  Two  years  passed  away  in  an  untiring 
devotion  to  the  studies  he  had  assigned  himself,  and  he  then 
made  application  for  admission  to  the  bar. 

22.  Young  Wallace  passed  his  examinations  with  some 
applause,  and  the  first  case  on  which  he  was  employed, 
chanced  to  be  one  of  great  difficulty,  which  required  all  his 
skill ;  the  lawyer  on  the  opposite  side  was  Harmon  Lee, 
who  entertained  for  his  father's  apprentice  the  utmost  con- 
tempt. 

23.  The  cause  came  on.  There  was  a  profound  silence 
and  a  marked  attention  and  interest,  when  the  young  stranger 
arose  in  the  court- room  to  open  the  case.  A  smile  of  con- 
tempt curled  the  lip  of  Harmon  Lee,  but  Wallace  saw  it  not. 
The  prominent  points  of  the  case  were  presented  in  plain, 
but  concise  language  to  the  court ;  and  a  few  remarks  bear- 
ing upon  its  merits  being  made,  the  young  lawyer  took  his 
seat,  and  gave  room  for  the  defense. 

24.  Instantly  Harmon  Lee  was  on  his  feet,  and  began 
referring  to  the  points  presented  by  his  "very  learned 
brother,"  in  a  very  flippant  manner.  There  were  those 
present  who  marked  the  light  that  kindled  in  the  eye  of 
Wallace,  and  the  flash  that  passed  over  his  countenance   at 


17'4  SANDERS'    UjVION    SERIES, 

the  first  contemptuous  word  and  tone  that  were  uttered  by 
his  antagonist  at  the  bar.  These  soon  gave  place  to  atten- 
tention,  and  an  air  of  conscious  power.  Nearly  an  hour  had 
passed  when  Harmon  resumed  his  seat  with  a  look  of  exulta- 
tion, which  was  followed  by  a  pitying  and  contemptuous 
smile,  as  Wallace  agam  slowly  rose. 

25.  Ten  minutes,  however,  had  not  passed  when  that 
smile  had  changed  to  a  look 'of  surprise,  mortification,  and 
alarm.  The  young  lawyer's  first  speech  showed  him  to  be  a 
man  of  calm,  deep,  systematic  thought, — well  skilled  in  points 
of  law  and  in  authorities, — and,  more  than  all,  a  lawyer  of 
practical  and  comprehensive  views.  When  he  sat  down,  no 
important  point  in  the  case  had  been  left  untouched,  and  none 
that  had  been  touched,  required  further  elucidation. 

26.  Lee  followed  briefly,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  torture  his 
languitge  and  break  down  his  positions.  But  he  felt  that  he 
was  contending  with  weapons  whose  edges  were  turned  at 
every  blow.  When  he  took  his  seat  again,  Wallace  merely 
remarked  that  he  was  prepared,  without  further  argument, 
to  submit  the  case  to  the  court. 

27.  The  case  was  accordingly  submitted,  and  a  decision 
unhesitatingly  made  in  £ivor  of  the  plaintiff,  or  Wallace's 
client.  From  that  hour  James  W^allace  took  his  true  position. 
The  despised  apprentice  became  the  able  and  profound 
lawyer^  and  was  esteemed  for  real  talent  and  real  moral 
worth,  which,  when  combined,  ever  place  their  possessor  in 
his  true  position.  Ten  years  from  that  day,  Wallace  was 
elevated  to  the  bench,  while  Lee,  a  second-rate  lawyer,  never 
rose  above  that  position. 

Questions. — 1.  What  profession  did  James  study,  after  he  had  learned 
his  trade?  2.  Who  was  his  opponent  in  the  first  cause  he  tried  ?  3.  Which 
won  tho  case  ?    4.  What  did  James  finally  become  ? 


SUMBER    FOUR.  I75 

LESSON    XLVI. 

Taun-ting  LY,  insultingly.  .  Buf' fet  ed,  struggled  against. 
Dm'  Ni  Fi  ED,  uoble.  Tiie4LL$,  bondage. 

Dis'  PU  TANTS,  persons  disputing.  i  Des  ror'  ic,  tyrannical. 
Re^  0  Lu'  Tiox,  decision.  Op  pres'  sion,  tyranny. 

Im  a6'  in^  ED,  fancied.  [tion.  \  Pen'  u  ry,  poverty  ;  destitution. 

Rb  flec'  tion,  thought ;  considera-  |  Peed  e  ces'  sor$,  those  who  ha\© 

Su  pe  EI  or'  I  TY,  preeminence.  (      gone  before. 
Sub  or'  di  nate,  one  inferior  in  posi-     Dis  pen  sa'  tion$,  dealings, 

tion.  i  Cri  te'  ri  on,  standard ;  measure. 

*^B0    WAS    FKANKLIK/' 

Anoit. 

1.  "  Oh,  you're  a  ^prentice  P^  said  a  little  boy,  the  other 
day,  tauntingly,  to  his  companion.  Tiie  boy  addressed 
turned  proudly  round,  and,  while  the  fire  of  injured  pride, 
and  the  look  of  pity  were  strangely  blended  in  his  counte- 
nance, coolly  answered,  ''  So  was  Fraaklbi .'" 

2.  This  dignified  reply  struck  me  forcibly,  and  I  turned 
to  mark  the  disputants  more  closely.  The  former,  I  per- 
ceived by  his  dress,  was  of  a  higher  class  in  society  than  his 
humble,  yet  more  dignified  companion.  The  latter  was  a 
sprightly,  active  lad,  scarce  twelve  years  old,  and  coarsely, 
but  neatly  attired.  But,  young  as  he  was,  there  was  visible 
in  his  countenance  much  of  genius,  manly  dignity,  and 
determinate  resolution ;  while  that  of  the  former  showed 
only  fostered  pride,  and  the  imagined  superiority  of  riches. 

3.  That  little  fellow,  thought  we,  gazing  at  our  young 
hero,  displays  already  much  of  the  man,  though  his  calling 
be  a  humble  one ;  and,  though  poverty  extends  to  him  her 
dreary,  cheerless  reality,  still  he  looks  on  the  brightest  side 
of  the  scene,  and  already  rises  in  anticipation  from  poverty 
and  wretchedness  !  Once,  ''  so  was  Pranklin^^''  and  the 
world  may  one  day  witness  in  our  little  '•  ^ prentice^  as  great 


176  SANPERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

a  philosopher  as  they  have  already  seen  in  his  noble  pattern ! 
And  we  passed  on,  buried  in  meditation. 

4.  The  motto  of  our  infantile  philosopher  contains  much, — 
too  much  to  be  forgotten,  and  should  be  engraven  on  the 
minds  of  all.  What  can  better  cheer  man  in  a  humble  call- 
ing, than  the  reflection  that  the  greatest  and  the  best  of 
earth — the  greatest  statesmen,  the  brightest  philosophers, 
and  the  proudest  warriors — have  once  graced  the  same  pro^ 
fession? 

5.  Look  at  Franklin !     He  who 

With  the  thunder  talked,  as  friend  to  friend, 
And  wove  his  garland  of  the  lightning's  wing, 
In  sportive  twist." 

What  was  he  ?  A  printer  I  once  a  subordinate  in  a  prints 
ing  office  !  Poverty  stared  him  in  the  face  ;  but  her  blank, 
hollow  look,  could  nothing  daunt  him.  He  struggled  against 
a  harder  current  than  most  are  called  to  encounter  ;  but  he 
did  not  yield.  He  pressed  manfully  onward;  bravely  buf- 
feted misfortune's  billows,  and  gained  the  desired  haven ! 

6.  Look  at  Cincinnatus  !  At  the  call  of  his  country  he 
laid  aside  the  plow  and  seized  the  sword.  But,  wielding  it 
with  entire  success,  when  his  country  was  no  longer  endan- 
gered, and  public  afiairs  needed  not  his  longer  stay,  "he 
beat  his  sword  into  a  plowshare,"  and  returned  with  honest 
delight  to  his  little  farm. 

7.  Look  at  Washington  !  What  was  his  course  of  life  ? 
He  was  first  a  farmer  ;  next  a  Commander  in  chief  of  the 
hosts  of  freedom,  fighting  for  the  liberation  of  his  country 
from  the  thralls  of  despotic  oppression ;  next,  called  to  the 
highest  seat  of  government,  by  his  ransomed  brethren,  a 
President  of  the  largest  Republic  on  earthy  and  lastly,  a 
farmer  again. 


KUMBER    FOUR.  l*j^ 

8.  What  was  the  famous  Ben  Jonson  ?  He  was  first  a 
brick-layer,  or  mason  !  What  was  he  in  after  years  ?  'Tis 
needless  to  answer. 

What  was  Burns  ?  An  Ayrshire  plowman  !  What  was 
he  in  after  life,  in  the  estimation  of  his  countrymen,  and  the 
world  ?     Your  library  gives  the  answer  ! 

9.  But  shall  we  go  on,  and  call  up,  in  proud  array,  all  the 
mighty  host  of  worthies  that  have  lived  and  died,  who  were 
cradled  in  ihe  lap  of  penury,  and  received  their  first  lessons 
in  the  school  of  affliction'  ?  Nay^ ;  we  have  cited  instances 
enough  already, — ^yea,  more  than  enough  to  prove  the  point 
in  question — namely,  that  there  is  no  profession,  however 
low  in  the  opinion  of  the  world,  but  has  been  honored  with 
eartKs  greatest  and  worthiest. 

10.  Young  man  I  Does  the  iron  hand  of  misfortune 
press  hard  upon  you,  and  disappointments  well-nigh  sink 
your  despairing  soul'  ?  Have  courage  !  Mighty  ones  have 
been  your  predecessors,  and  have  withstood  the  current 
of  opposition  that  threatened  to  overwhelm  their  fragile 
bark. 

11.  Do  you  despise  your  humble  station,  and  repine  that 
Providence  has  not  placed  you  in  some  nobler  sphere'  ?  Mur- 
mur not  against  the  dispensations  of  an  All- wise  Creator ! 
Bemember  that  wealth  is  no  criterion  of  moral  rectitude,  or 
intellectual  worth, — that  riches  dishonestly  gained,  are  a  last- 
ing curse, — that  virtue  and  uprightness  work  out  a  rich  re- 
ward,— and  that 

"  An  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God." 

12.  And  when  dark  Disappointment  comes,  do  not  wither 
at  her  stare ;  but  press  forward,  and  the  prize  is  yours  !  It 
was  thus  with  Franklin, — it  can  be  thus  with  you.  He 
stroTo  for  the  prize,  and  he  won  it !     So  may  you !     'Ti» 

4  U  8* 


178  SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

well  worth  contending  for ;  and  success  may  attend  you  I  and 
the  "stars"  will  be  brighter,  as  the  "stripes"  wear  deeper. 

Questions — 1.  What  did  the  rich  boy  saj  of  the  poor  boy  ?  2.  What 
reply  did  the  poor  boy  make  ?  3.  What  other  examples  are  cited  of  eminent 
men  who  were  once  poor  ?  4.  What  is  said  of  Cincinnatus  ?  5.  Of  Wash- 
ington ?  6.  Of  Ben  Jonson  ?  7.  Of  Burns  ?  8.  What  do  all  these  examples 
prove  ?  9.  What  encouragement  is  given  to  young  men?  10.  What  are  the 
full  forms  of  the  words  youWe,  ^prentice  1 


'm£^' 


LESSON   XLVII. 

Mag'  IC,    power  of  enchantment.    )  Yest'  ure,  garment. 

Con  ten'  tion,  strife ;   controversy.       Se  date',  calm  ;  quiet. 

Tra  m"  tion,  facts  or  events  handed     Fan  tas'  tic,  fanciful ;  visionary. 

down  from  age  to  age.  Ra'  di  ance,  brightness ;   luster. 

Sub'  tile,  thin ;  slight ;  slender.  In  vec'  tive,  railing  speech. 

In  vest'  ED,  clothed.  [crest.      I  de'  al,  imaginary. 

Crest'  ed,  adorned  with  a  plume  or     Fa  tigu'  ing,  wearisome  ;  toUsome. 
Az'  URE,  light-blue ;  sky-colored.        \  As  pir'  ing,  aiming ;  seeking  to  rise. 

Per  spect'  ive,  (per,  through;  spect,  to  see;  iye,  having  the  <power,) 
having  the  power  to  see  through ;  a  view  through. 

Un  Di  vert' ED,  (uN,  not;  Di,  aside;  verted,  turned,)  not  turned  aside; 
unheeded. 

NOW    AMD    THEN. 

Jake  Taylob. 

1.  In  distant  days, — of  wild  romance, 

Of  magic,  mist,  and  fable, — 
When  stones  could  argue,  trees  advance,* 

And  brutes  to  talk  were  able, — 
When  shrubs  and  flowers  were  said  to  preach, 

And  manage  all  the  parts  of  speech, — 

„. . — . —  ■  ■ " 

*  The  reference  is  to  Orpheus,  (or'  fuse,)  an  ancient  poet  and  musician  of 
ti*-etyce.  The  skUl  of  Orpheus  on  the  lyre,  was  fabled  to  have  been  such  as 
to  move  the  very  trees  and  rocka,  and  to  assemble  the  beasts  around  him  as 
he  touched  its  chords. 


KUMBER    FOUR.  I^JQ 

2.  'Twas  the7ij  no  doubt,  if  'twas  at  all, 

(But  doubts  we  need  not  mention,) 
That  T/ie7i  and  Now,  two  adverbs  small, 

Engaged  in  sharp  contention  ; 
But  how  they  made  each  other  hear, 
Tradition  doth  not  make  appear. 

3.  Then  was  a  sprite  of  subtile  frame, 

With  rainbow  tints  invested, — 
On  clouds  of  dazzling  light  she  came, 

And  stars  her  foi-ehead  crested ; 
Her  sparkhng  eyes  of  azure  hue. 
Seemed  borrowed  from  the  distant  blue. 

4.  Now  rested  on  the  solid  earth, 

And  sober  w^as  her  vesture  ; 
She  seldom  either  grief  or  mirth 

Expressed,  by  word  or  gesture ; 
Composed,  sedate,  and  firm  she  stood. 
And  looked  industrious,  calm,  and  good. 

5.  Theti  sang  a  wild,  fantastic  song, 

Light  as  the  gale  she  flies  on. 
Still  stretching,  as  she  sailed  along. 

Toward  the  far  horizon, 
Where  clouds  of  radiance,  fringed  with  gold, 
O'er  hills  of  emerald  beauty  rolled. 

6.  Noiv  rarely  raised  her  sober  eye 

To  view  that  golden  distance ; 
Nor  let  one  idle  minute  fly 

In  hope  of  Theri's  assistance; 
But  still  with  busy  hands  she  stood, 
Intent  on  doing  present  good. 


180  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

7.  She  ate  the  sweet,  but  homely  fare, 

That  passing  moments  brought  her  j 
While  Theii^  expecting  dainties  rare, 

Despised  such  bread  and  water ; 
And  waited  for  the  fruits  and  flowers 
Of  future,  still  receding  hours. 

8.  Now,  venturing  once  to  ask  her  why, 

She  answered  with  invective ; 
And  pointed,  as  she  made  reply, 

Toward  that  long  perspective 
Of  years  to  come, — in  distant  blue, 
Wherein  she  meant  to  live  and  do. 

9.  "Alas!"  says  she,  '■^  how  hard  you  toU! 

With  undiverted  sadness ; 
Behold  yon  land  of  wine  and  oil ! 

Those  sunny  hills  of  gladness  ! 
Those  joys  I  wait,  with  eager  brow," — 
^^And  so  you  always  will .'"  said  Now, 

10.  "  That  fairy  land  that  looks  so  real, 

Recedes  as  you  pursue  it ; 
Thus,  while  you  wait  for  times  ideal, 

/  take  my  work  and  do  it ; 
Intent  to  form,  when  time  is  gone, 
A  pleasant  past  to  look  upon." 

11.  "Ah,  well,"  said  Then,  "I  envy  not 

Your  dull,  fatiguing  labors, — 
Aspiring  to  a  brighter  lot. 

With  thousands  of  my  neighbors ; 
Soon  as  I  reach  that  golden  hill," — 
"But  that  J "  says  Now^  "you  never  willP^ 


'NUMBER    FOUR. 


181 


12.  "And  e'en  suppose  you  should,"  said  she, 
"(Though  mortal  ne'er  attained  it,) 
Your  nature  you  must  change  with  me, 

The  moment  you  have  gained  it ; 
Since  hope  fulfilled,  (you  must  allow,) 
Turns  Now  to  Then,  and  Then  to  Now.''^ 

Questions. — 1.  What  two  words  are  represented  as  holding  a  contro- 
versy? 2.  Describe  the  appearance  of  each.  3,  "When  did  Then  pro- 
pose to  do  something  ?  4.  How  did  Now  act  ?  5.  What  answer  did  Then 
make,  when  Now  asked  her  why  she  waited  ?  6.  What  was  Now^s  reply  ? 
V.  What  did  Now  finally  say  to  Then  f  8.  How  should  passages,  within  a 
parenthesis,  be  read?  See  Sanders'  Union  Reader,  Number  Three, 
page  20. 


LESSON   XLVIII. 


In  gen'  ious,  artful ;  skillful. 
Strat'  a  gem,  trick ;  artifice. 
Ex  ceed'  ED,  surpassed. 
Sig'  nal$,  signs. 

Am'  i  ca  ble,  friendly ;  peaceable. 
Ee  pel',  (re,  hack;  pel,  to  drive,)  drive 
Mu'  TU  AL,  reciprocal.  [back. 

Ex  traor'  di  na  ry,  uncommon. 
In  vet/  er  ate,  obstinate  ;  violent. 


Ha  rangue',  declamatory  speech. 
En  ter  tain'  ed,  held  ;  had. 
Sus  pi"  cion,  mistrust. 
En  coun'  ter  ed,  met  face  to  face. 
Ex'  E  cu  ted,  carried  out. 
Eor'  mi  da  BLE,  fearful ;  dreadful. 
Per  fid'  i  ous,  treacherous. 
Pre  cip'  i  tate  ly,    headlong. 

In  an'  I  MATE, 


AN    INGENIOUS 


STRATAGEM* 

Days  op  WASHiNofToN. 


1.  In  the  early  part  of  the  war,  a  sergeant  and  twelve 
armed  men  undertook  a  journey  through  the  wilderness,  in 
the  State  of  New  Hampshire.  Their  route  was  remote  from 
any  settlement,  and  they  were  under  the  necessity  of  encamp- 
ing over  night  in  the  woods.     Nothing  material  happened 


482  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

the  first  day  of  their  excursion ;  but,  early  in  the  afternoon 
of  the  second,  they,  from  an  eminence,  discovered  a  body  of 
armed  Indians  advancing  toward  them,  whose  number  rather 
exceeded  their  own. 

2.  As  soon  as  the  whites  were  perceived  by  their  red 
brethren,  the  latter  made  signals,  and  the  two  parties  ap- 
proached each  other  in  an  amicable  manner.  The  Indians 
appeared  to  be  much  gratified  with  meeting  the  sergeant  and 
his  men,  whom,  they  observed,  they  considered  as  their  pro- 
tectors. Tiiey  said  they  belonged  to  a  tribe  which  had  raised 
the  hatchet  with  zeal  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  and  were  de- 
termined to  do  all  in  their  power  to  repel  the  common 
enemy. 

8.  They  shook  hands  in  friendship.  When  they  had  con- 
versed with  each  other  for  some  time,  and  exchanged  mutual 
good  wishes,  they,  at  length,  separated,  and  each  party  trav- 
eled in  a  different  direction.  After  proceeding  to  the  distance 
of  a  mile  or  more,  the  sergeant,  who  was  acquainted  with  all 
the  different  tribes,  and  knew  on  which  side  of  the  contest 
they  were  respectively  ranked,  halted  his  men,  and  addressed 
them  in  the  following  words : 

4.  "My  brave  companions,  we  must  use  the  utmost 
caution,  or  this  night  may  be  our  last.  Should  we  not  make 
some  extraordinary  exertions  to  defend  ourselves,  to-morrow's 
sun  may  find  us  sleeping,  never  to  wake.  You  are  sur- 
prised, comrades,  at  my  words,  and  your  anxiety  Will  not  be 
lessened,  when  I  inform  you  that  we  have  just  passed  our 
most  inveterate  foe^  who,  under  the  mask  of  pretended 
friendship,  which  you  have  witnessed,  would  lull  us  to  security, 
and,  by  such  means,  in  the  unguarded  moments  of  our  midnight 
slumber,  without  resistance,  seal  our  fate." 

5.  Tlie  men  with  astonishment  listened  to  this  short 
harangue ;  and  thoir  surprise  was  greater,  as  not  one  of 


NUMBER    FOUR.  183 

them  had  entertained  the  suspicion  but  that  thej"  had  just 
encountered  friends.  They  all  immediately  resolved  to  enter 
into  some  scheme  for  their  mutual  preservation,  and  the 
destruction  of  their  enemies.  By  the  proposal  of  their 
leader,  the  following  plan  was  adopted  and  executed. 

6.  The  spot  selected  for  their  night's  encampment,  w^as 
near  a  stream  of  water,  which  served  to  cover  their  rear. 
They  felled  a  large  tree,  before  which,  on  the  approach  of 
night,  a  brilliant  fire  was  lighted.  Each  individual  cut  a 
log  of  wood,  about  the  size  of  his  body,  rolled  it  nicely  in 
his  blanket,  placed  his  hat  upon  one  end,  and  laid  it  before 
the  fire,  that  the  enemy  might  be  deceived,  and  mistake  it 
for  a  man. 

T.  After  they  had  thus  fitted  out  logs,  equal  in  number  to 
the  sergeant's  party,  and  had  so  artfully  arranged  them,  that 
they  might  be  easily  mistaken  for  so  many  soldiers,  the  men 
with  loaded  muskets  placed  themselves  behind  the  fallen  tree, 
by  which  time  the  shades  of  evening  began  to  close  around. 
The  fire  was  kept  burning  brilliantly  until  late  in  the  even- 
ing, when  it  was  suffered  to  decline. 

8.  The  critical  time  was  now  approaching,  when  an  attack 
might  be  expected  from  the  Indians :  but  the  sergeant's  men 
rested  in  their  place  of  concealment  with  great  anxiety,  till 
near  midnight,  without  perceiving  any  movement  of  the 
enemy.  At  length,  a  tall  Indian  was  discovered,  through 
the  glimmering  of  the  fire,  cautiously  moving  toward  them, 
making  no  noise,  and  apparently  using  every  means  in  his 
power  to  conceal  himself  from  any  one  about  the  camp. 

9.  For  a  time,  his  actions  showed  him  to  be  suspicious 
that  a  guard  might  be  stationed  to  watch  any  unusual  ap- 
pearance, who  would  give  the  alarm  in  case  of  danger ;  but, 
all  appearing  quiet,  he  ventured  forward  more  boldly,  rested 
upon  his  toes,  and  was  distinctly  seen  to  move  his  finger  as 


J34  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

he  numbered  each  log  of  wood,  or  what  he  supposed  to  be 
a  human  being  quietly  enjoying  repose. 

10.  To  satisfy  himself  more  fully,  as  to  the  number,  he 
counted  them  over  a  second  time,  and  cautiously  retired. 
He  was  succeeded  by  another  Indian,  who  went  through  the 
same  movements,  and  retired  in  the  same  manner.  Soon 
after,  the  whole  party,  sixteen  in  number,  were  discovered 
approaching,  and  greedily  eying  their  supposed  victims. 

11.  The  feelings  of  the  sergeant's  men  can  be  better 
imagined  than  described,  when  they  saw  the  base  and  cruel 
purpose  of  their  enemies,  who  were  now  so  near  that  they 
could  scarcely  be  restrained  from  firing  upon  them.  The 
plan,  however,  of  the  sergeant,  was  to  have  his  men  remain 
silent  in  their  places  of  concealment,  till  the  muskets  of  the 
savages  were  discharged,  that  their  own  fire  might  be  efiect- 
ual,  and  opposition  less  formidable. 

12.  Their  suspense  was  not  of  long  duration.  The  Indians, 
in  a  body,  cautiously  approached  till  within  a  short  distance  : 
they  then  halted,  took  deliberate  aim,  discharged  their  piecea 
upon  inanimate  logs,  gave  a  dreadful  war-whoop,  and  in- 
stantly rushed  forward,  with  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife 
in  hand,  to  dispatch  the  living,  and  obtain  the  scalps  of  the 


13.  As  soon  as  they  had  collected  in  close  order,  more 
effectually  to  execute  their  horrid  intentions,  the  sergeant's 
party  discharged  their  pieces,  not  on  logs  of  wood,  but  per- 
fidious savages, — many  of  whom  fell  under  the  hot  fire  of  the 
little  band,  and  the  rest  precipitately  fled.  But  for  this 
ingenious  scheme,  it  is  probable  that  not  one  of  these  twelve 
men  would  have  escaped  the  tomahawk  of  the  savages. 

Questions. — 1.  "What  did  the  sergeant  say  to  his  men,  after  parting  with 
the  Indians?  2.  What  plan  did  the  sergeant  propose  for  their  preservation  ? 
3.  Did  the  plan  suo«e©d?    ^  Deacrihfi  the  closing  scene. 


SUMBER   FOUR.  185 

LESSON   XLIX. 

Yen'  er  a  ble,  worthy  of  reverence.  >  De  scrip'  tion,  representation. 

In  va'  sign,  irruption ;  inroad.  Ma  ter'  nal,  motherly. 

Ex  cIt'  ED,  roused ;  stirred  up.  Fil'  ial,  becoming  a  child.       [ship. 

Ire,  wrath ;  indignation.  Con  san  guin'  i  ty,  blood  relation^ 

Yenge' ance,  retaliation.  In  tel' Li  gence,  news ;  information. 

Ee  LiiAs'  ED,  set  free ;  liberated.  I  den'  ti  ty,  sameness. 

Tro'  piiie$,  memorials  of  victory.  SuR  viv'  ed,  remained  alive. 

13 E  reft',  deprived.  As  cer  tain'  ed,  found  out. 

Yult'  ure,  rapacious  bird.  In  ter'  fret  er,  explainer. 

Trav'  ers  ed,  crossed  over.  i  Lin'  e  a  ments,  features. 

FRANCES  SLOCUM,  THE  YOUNG  CAPTIVE** 

B.   J.   LOSSIKG. 

1.  I  PASSED  the  evening  with  the  venerable  Joseph  Slocum, 
"whose  family  was  among  the  sufferers,  in  Wyoming  Valley. 
He  related  to  me  all  the  particulars  of  the  capture,  and  final 
discovery  of  his  sister  Frances,  and  other  incidents  con- 
nected with  the  sufferings  of  his  family. 

2.  His  father  was  a  Quaker,  and  was  distinguished  for  his 
kindness  to  the  Indians.  He  remained  unharmed  at  the 
time  of  the  invasion,  and,  while  the  torch  was  applied  to  the 
dwellings  of  others,  his  was  left  untouched.  But  his  son 
Giles  was  in  the  battle.  This,  doubtless,  excited  the  ire  of 
the  Indians,  and  they  resolved  on  vengeance. 

3.  Late  in  the  autumn,  they  were  seen  prowling  about 
the  house,  which  was  situated  about  one  hundred  rods  from 

*  The  great  massacre  at  "Wyoming  was,  perhaps,  the  most  bloody  and 
terrible  chapter  of  the  Revolution.  A  combined  Indian  and  Tory  force  had 
flung  itself  upon  the  peaceful  valley,  and  murdered  or  made  captive  nearly  all 
its  unoffending  inhabitants ;  its  old  and  its  young, — men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren alike, — were  either  indiscriminately  butchered  or  made  prisoners. 
Among  the  prisoners  taken  on  that  occasion,  was  an  infant  child  by  the 
name  of  Frances  Slocum.  The  story  is  a  very  strange  one  ;  we  copy  it  from 
Lossing's  very  excellent  work,  "  The  Field  Book  of  the  Revolution." 


186  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

the  Wilkesbarre  Fort.  A  neighbor,  named  Kingsley,  had 
been  made  prisoner,  and  his  wife  and  two  sons  had  a  wel- 
come homo  in  Mr.  Slocum's  family.  One  morning,  the  boys 
were  grinding  a  knife  near  the  house,  when  a  rifle-shot  and 
a  shriek  brought  Mrs.  Slocum  to  the  door.  An  Indian  was 
scalping  the  eldest  boy,  a  lad  of  fifteen,  with  the  knife  he 
had  been  grinding. 

4.  The  savage  then  went  into  the  house,  and  caught  up  a 
little  son  of  Mrs.  Slocum.  "See!"  exclaimed  the  fright- 
ened mother,  "he  can  do  thee  no  good;  he  is  lame^'  The 
Indian  released  the  boy,  took  up  her  little  daughter  Frances, 
aged  five  years,  gently  in  his  arms,  and,  seizing  the  younger 
Kingsley,  hastened  to  the  mountains. 

5.  Two  Indians  who  were  with  him,  carried  off  a  black 
girl,  about  seventeen  years  of  age.  Mr.  Slocum's  daughter 
caught  up  her  brother  Joseph,  (my  informant,)  two  and  a 
half  years  old,  and  fled  in  safety  to  the  fort,  where  an  alarm 
was  given  ;  but  the  savages  were  beyond  successful  pursuit. 

6.  About  six  weeks  afterward,  Mr.  Slocum  and  his  father- 
in-law  Ira  Tripp,  were  shot  and  scalped  by  some  Indians 
while  foddering  cattle  near  the  house.  Again  the  savages 
escaped  with  their  horrid  trophies.  Mrs.  Slocum,  bereft  of 
father,  husband,  and  child,  and  stripped  of  all  possessions 
but  the  house  that  sheltered  her,  could  not  leave  the  valley, 
for  nine  helpless  children  were  yet  in  her  household. 

7.  She  trusted  in  the  God  of  Elijah ;  and,  if  she  was  not 
fed  by  the  ravens,  she  was  spared  by  the  vultures.  She 
mourned  not  for  the  dead ;  for  they  were  at  rest :  but  little 
Frances,  her  lost  darling,  where  was  she?  The  lamp  of  | 
hope  kept  on  burning ;  but  years  rolled  by,  and  no  tidings 
of  the  little  one  came. 

8.  When  peace  returned,  and  friendly  intercourse  with 
Canada  was  established,  two  of  the  little  captive's  brothers 


NUMBER    FOUR.  287 

started  in  search  of  her.  Thej  traversed  the  wilderness  to 
Niagara,  offering  rewards  for  her  recovery ;  but,  all  in  vain. 
Thej  returned  to  Wyoming,  convinced  that  the  child  was 
dead.  But  the  mother  s  heart  was  still  the  shrine  of  hope, 
and  she  felt  assured  that  Frances  was  not  in  the  grave. 

9.  Her  soul  appeared  to  commune  with  that  of  her  child, 
and  she  often  said,  ''I  know  Frances  is  still  living."  At 
length,  the  mother's  heart  was  cheered  :  a  woman,  (for  many 
years  had  now  passed,  and  Frances,  if  living,  must  have  ar- 
rived to  womanhood,)  was  found  among  the  Indians,  answering 
the  description  of  the  lost  one.  She  only  remembered  being 
carried  away  from  the  Susquehanna. 

10.  Mrs.  Slocura  took  her  home,  and  cherished  her  with 
a  mother's  tenderness.  Yet  the  mysterious  link  of  sym- 
pathy which  binds  the  maternal  spirit  to  its  offspring,  was 
unfelt,  and  the  bereaved  mother  was  bereaved  still.  ''  It 
may  be  Frances,  but  it  does  not  seem  so ;  yet  the  woman 
shall  ever  be  welcome,"  said  Mrs.  Slocum.  The  foundling, 
also,  felt  no  filial  yearnings  ;  and,  both  becoming  convinced 
that  no  consanguinity  existed,  the  orphan  returned  to  her 
Indian  friends. 

11.  From  time  to  time,  the  hope  of  the  mother  would  be 
revived,  and  journeys  Avere  made  to  distant  Indian  settle- 
ments in  search  of  the  lost  sister ;  but,  in  vain.  Tiie  mother 
went  "down  into  the  grave,  mourning,"  and  little  Frances 
was  almost  forgotten.  Her  brothers  had  become  aged  men, 
and  their  grandchildren  were  playing  upon  the  very  spot, 
whence  she  had  been  taken. 

12.  In  the  summer  of  1837,  fifty-nine  years  after  her 
capture,  intelligence  of  Frances  was  received.  Colonel 
Ewing,  an  Indian  agent  and  trader,  in  a  letter  from  Logans- 
port,  Indiana,  to  the  editor  of  the  Lancaster  Intelligencer , 
gave  such  information,  that  all  doubts  respecting  her  identity 


188  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

were  removed,  and  Joseph  Slocum,  with  the  sister  who  car- 
ried him  to  the  fort,  and  yet  survived,  immediately  jour- 
neyed to  Ohio,  where  they  were  joined  by  their  younger 
brother  Isaac. 

13.  They  proceeded  to  Logansport,  where  they  found  Mr. 
Evving,  and  ascertained  that  the  woman  spoken  of  by  him, 
lived  about  twelve  miles  from  the  village.  She  was  imme- 
diately sent  for,  and,  toward  evening  the  next  day,  she  came 
into  the  town,  riding  a  spirited,  young  horse,  accompanied  by 
her  two  daughters,  and  the  husband  of  one  of  them, — all 
dressed  in  full  Indian  costume. 

14.  An  interpreter  was  procured,  (for  she  could  not  speak 
or  understand  English,)  and  she  listened  seriously  to  what 
her  brothers  had  to  say.  She  answered  but  little,  and,  at 
sunset,  departed  for  her  home,  promising  to  return  the  next 
morning.  The  brother  and  sister  were  quite  sure  that  it 
was  indeed  Frances,  though  in  her  face  nothing  but  Indian 
lineaments  were  seen,  her  color  alone  revealing  her  origin. 

15.  True  to  her  appointment,  she  appeared  the  following 
morning,  accompanied  as  before.  Mr.  Joseph  Slocum  then 
mentioned  a  mark  of  recognition,  which,  his  mother  had 
said,  was  a  sure  test.  While  playing,  one  day,  with  a 
hammer  in  a  blacksmith's  shop,  Joseph,  then  a  child  two 
and  a  half  years  old,  gave  Frances  a  blow  upon  the  middle 
finger  of  the  left  hand,  which  crushed  the  bone,  and  deprived 
the  finger  of  its  nail. 

16.  This  test  .Mr.  Slocum  had  withheld  until  others 
should  fail.  When  he  mentioned  it,  the  aged  woman  was 
greatly  agitated,  and,  while  tears  filled  the  furrows  of  lier 
face,  she  held  out  the  wounded  finger.  There  was  no  longer 
a  doubt,  and  a  scene  of  great  interest  ensued.  Her  aiOfec-. 
tions  for  her  kindred,  that  had  slumbered  half  a  century, 
were  aroused^   and  she  made   earnest   inquiries   after  her 


NUMBER    FOUR.  ;j^g9 

father,  mother,  brothers,  and  sisters.  Her  full  heart, — full 
with  the  cherished  secrets  of  her  history, — was  opened,  and 
the  story  of  her  life  freely  given. 

17.  She  said  the  savages,  who  were  Delawares,  after 
taking  her  to  a  rocky  cave  in  the  mountains,  departed  to  the 
Indian  country.  The  first  night  was  the  unhappiest  of  her 
life.  She  was  kindly  treated, — being  carried  tenderly  in 
their  arms  when  she  was  weary.  She  was  adopted  in  an 
Indian  family,  and  brought  up  as  their  daughter.  For 
years  she  lived  a  roving  life,  and  loved  it.  She  was  taught 
the  use  of  the  bow  and  arrow,  and  became  expert  in  all  the 
employments  of  savage  existence. 

18.  When  she  was  grown  to  womanhood,  both  her  Indian 
parents  died,  and  she  soon  afterward  married  a  young  chief 
of  the  nation,  and  removed  to  the  Ohio  country.  She  was 
treated  with  more  respect  than  the  Indian  women  generally; 
and  so  happy  was  she  in  her  domestic  relations,  that  the 
chance  of  being  discovered,  and  compelled  to  return  among 
the  whites,  was  the  greatest  evil  that  she  feared ;  for  she  had 
been  taught  that  they  were  the  implacable  enemies  of  the 
Indians,  whom  she  loved. 

19.  Her  Jiusband  died,  and,  her  people  having  joined  the 
Miamies,  she  went  with  them,  and  married  one  of  that  tribe. 
The  last  husband  was  also  dead,  and  she  had  been  a  widow 
many  years.  Children  and  grandchildren  were  around  her, 
and  her  life  was  passing  pleasantly  away.  When  she  con- 
cluded the  narrative,  she  lifted  her  right  hand  in  a  solemn 
manner,  and  said,  ''  All  this  is  as  true  as  that  there  is  a 
Great  Spirit  in  the  heavens  I"  She  had  entirely  forgotten 
her  native  language,  and  was  a  pagan. 

20.  On  the  day  after  the  second  interview,  the  brothers 
and  sisters,  with  the  interpreter,  rode  out  to  her  dwelling. 
It  was  a  well-built  log  house,  in  the  midst  of  cultivation. 


190  SAIVDEHS'    UNION    SERIES. 

A  large  herd  of  cattle  and  sixty  horses  were  grazing  in  the 
pasture.  Everything  betokened  plenty  and  comfort ;  for  she 
was  wealthy,  when  her  wants  and  her  means  were  compared. 
Her  annuity  from  government,  which  she  received  as  one  of 
the  Miami  tribe,  had  been  saved,  and  she  had  about  one 
thousand  dollars  in  specie. 

21.  Her  white  friends  passed  several  days  very  agreeably 
with  her;  and  subsequently  her  brother  Joseph,  with  his 
daughter,  the  wife  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Bennet,  of  Wyoming, 
made  her  another  visit,  and  bade  her  a  last  farewell.  She 
died  a  few  years  ago,  and  was  buried  with  considerable  pomp ; 
for  she  was  regarded  as  a  queen  among  her  tribe. 

Questions. — 1.  Where  is  the  "Wyoming  Valley  ?  2.  Relate  the  incidents 
connected  with  the  capture  of  little  Frances.  3.  What  eflforts  were  made 
to  find  her?  4.  How  many  years  after  her  capture  before  she  was  found? 
5.  Where  did  they  find  her  ?  6.  By  what  test  did  Mr.  Slocum  prove  that 
she  was  his  sister  ?  7.  What  history  did  she  relate  of  herself?  8.  Describe 
her  home. 

LESSON    L. 

Erixg'  ING,  bordering  ;  edging.  j  Cull'  ing,  selecting ;  picking. 

Ledge,  layer ;  ridge.  Bou  quets',   (boo  kds.)   bunches  of 

Dai'  $t,  (literally  day's  eye,)  a  little  j  Sulk'  y,  morose.  [flowers. 

flower  that  opens  only  in  the  day-  \  Both'  er  ing,  perplexing. 
Ri'  OT  ous,  noisy ;  reveling.      [time.  \  Un  wont'  ed,  rare ;  uncommon. 
Bois'  TER  ous,  tumultuous ;  violent.  ^  Te'di  ous,  tiresome ;  wearisome. 

THE    RAIN-DROPS* 

Delia  Louise  Coltow      • 

1.    The  silver  rain,  the  golden  rain. 

The  tripping,  dancing,  laughing  rain  ! 
Stringing  its  pearls  on  the  green  leafs  edge, 
Fringing  with  gems  the  brown  rock's  ledge, 


NUMBER    FOUR. 

Spinning  a  vail  for  the  water- fall, 
And  building  an  amber-colored  wall 
Across  the  West  where  the  sun-beams  fall : 
The  gentle  rain^  in  the  sliadj  lane, 
The  pattering  J  peering,  winnmg  rain  ! 

2.    The  noisy  rain^  the  marching  rain. 
The  rushing  tread  of  the  heavy  lain  ! 
Pouring  its  rivers  from  out  the  blue, 
Down  on  the  grass  where  the  daisies  grew. 
Darting  in  clouds  of  angrj  drops 
Across  the  hills  and  the  green  tree-tops, 
And  kissing,  at  last,  in  its  giant  glee. 
The  foaming  lips  of  the  great,  green  sea : 
The  fierce^  ivild  rain,  the  riotous  rain, 
The  boisterous,  dashing,  shouting  rain  ! 

8.    The  still  night  rain,  the  solemn  rain, 
The  soldier-step  of  the  midnight  rain  ! 
With  its  measured  beat  on  the  roof  o'er  head, 
With  its  tidings  sweet  of  the  faithful  -dead, 
Whispers  from  loves  who  are  laid  asleep 
Under  the  sod  where  the  myrtles  creep, 
Culling  bouquets  from  the  sun -lit  past, 
Of  flowers  too  sweet,  too  fair  to  last : 
The  faithful  rain,  the  untiring  rain, 
The  cooing,  sobbing,  xvceping  rain! 

4.    The  sulky  i^ain,  the  spiteful  rain, 

The  bothering,  pilfering,  thieving  rain  / 

Creeping  so  lazily  over  the  sky, 

A  leaden  mask  o'er  a  bright  blue  eye, 

And  shutting  in,  with  its  damp,  strong  hands, 

The  rosy  faces  in  curls,  and  bands 


191 


192  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Of  girls  who  think,  with  unwonted  frown, 
Of  the  charming  laces  and  things  down-town, 
That  might  as  well  for  this  tiresome  rain, 
Be  m  the  rose  land  of  Almahain  : 
The  horrid  rain,  the  tedious  rain^ 
The  never-ending,  dingy  rain  ! 

Questions. — 1.  "What  is  the  meaning  of  the  sufiBx  ing,  in  such  words  as 
tripping^  dancing,  laughing,  &c.  ?  See  Sanders  &  McElligott's  Analysis, 
page  153,  Ex.  206.  2.  What  is  the  use  of  the  hyphen  in  such  words  as 
mier-faU,  amber-colored,  &c.  ?    See  Sanders'  New  Speller,  page  165. 


LESSON    LI. 

Lav'  ish,  liberal ;  profuse.  j  Motes,  very  small  particles. 

Per'  fume$,   pleasant  odors.  |  Yent'  ure,  dare ;  have  courage. 

Har  mo'  ni  ous,  concordant.  >  Col'  umn$,  pillars. 

Rapt'  ure,  extreme  joyousness.  \  Dome,  arched  roof;  cupola. 

GrERM$,  seed-buds ;  beginnings.  j  Ti'  ny,  very  small. 

Par'  ti  cle$,  minute  parts ;  atoms.  \  Es'  sence,  perfume. 


^^SMAIxlx    THINGS*'^ 

r.  Benxocu. 

1.  "Who  dares  to  scorn  the  meanest  thing, 

The  humblest  weed  that  grows. 
While  pleasure  spreads  its  joyous  wing 

On  every  breeze  that  blows  ? 
The  simplest  flower  that,  hidden,  blooms 

The  lowest  on  the  ground. 
Is  lavish  of  its  rare  perfumes. 

And  scatters  sweetness  round. 


2.  The  poorest  friend  upholds  a  part 
Of  life's  harmonious  plan ; 


NUMBER    FOUR.  193 

The  weakest  hand  may  have  the  art 

To  serve  the  strongest  man. 
The  bird  that  highest,  clearest  sings, 

To  greet  the  morning's  birth, 
Falls  down  to  drink,  with  folded  wings, 

Love's  rapture  on  the  earth. 

8.  From  germs  too  small  for  mortal  sight 

Grow  all  things  that  are  seen, 
Their  floating  particles  of  light 

Weave  Nature's  robe  of  green. 
The  motes  that  fill  the  sunny  rays 

Build  ocean,  earth,  and  sky, — 
The  wondrous  orbs  that  round  us  blaze 

Are  motes  to  Deity  ! 

4.  Life,  love,  devotion,  closely  twine, 

Like  tree,  and  flower,  and  fruit ; 
They  ripen  by  a  power  divine. 

Though  fed  by  leaf  and  root. 
And  he  who  would  be  truly  great, 

Must  venture  to  be  small ; 
On  airy  columns  rests  the  dome 

That,  shining,  circles  all. 

5.  Small  duties  grow  to  mighty  deeds  ; 

Small  words  to  thoughts  of  power; 
Great  forests  spring  from  tiny  seeds, 

As  moments  make  the  hour. 
And  life,  howe'er  it  lowly  grows, 

The  essence  to  it  given. 

Like  odor  from  the  breathing  rose, 

Floats  evermore  to  Heaven. 
4  U  9 


194  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

LESSON   LII. 

Ex  tinct',  extinguished.  I  Gray'  i  ty,  seriousness. 

Incor'pora  ted,  united.  Delib'erate,  take  counsel 

Tac'  it,  silent ;  implied.  Trea'  $on,  treachery ;  disloyalty. 

Sub  sist'  ed,   existed.  Ap  pri$'  ing,  informing. 

Hos  PI  TAL''  I  TY,  kind  treatment.         Be  tray',  expose. 

Im  por'  tu  NATE,  urgent ;  pressing.       In  vin'  ci  ble,  unconquerable. 

En  croach'  mbnt,  intrusion.  Wax'  ed,  became  ;  grew. 

Ir'  Ri  TA  ted,  provoked ;  exasperated.     Be  sought',  entreated ;  implored. 

Mas'  sa  cre,  (mow'  sa  her,)  slaughter.  \  Suf  fice',  (c  like  z)  prove  sufficient. 

MURDERER'S    CREEK** 

James  K.  Paulding. 

1.  Little  more  than  a  century  ago,  the  beautiful  region, 
watered  by  this  stream,  was  possessed  by  a  small  tribe  of 
Indians,  which  has  long  since  become  extinct,  or  incorpo- 
rated with  some  other  savage  nation  of  the  West.  Three  or 
four  hundred  yards  from  where  the  stream  discharges  itself 
into  the  Hudson,  a  whjte  family,  of  the  name  of  Stacy,  had 
established  itself  in  a  log-house,  by  tacit  permission  of  the 
tribe,  to  whom  Stacy  had  made  himself  useful  by  his  skill  in 
a  variety  of  little  arts,  highly  estimated  by  the  savages. 

2.  In  particular,  a  friendship  subsisted  between  him  and 
an  old  Indian,  called  Naoman,  who  often  came  to  his  house, 
and  partook  of  his  hospitality.  The  Indians  never  forgive 
injuries,  nor  forget  benefits.  The  family  consisted  of  Stacy, 
his  wife,  and  two  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  tne  former  five, 
the  latter  three  years  old. 

3.  One  day,  Naoman  came  to  Stacy's  log-hut,  in  his 
absence,  lighted  his  pipe,  and  sat  down.  He  looked  very 
serious,  sometimes  sighed  deeply,  but  said  not  a  word. 
Stacy's  wife  asked  him  what  was  the  matter, — if  he  was  sick. 

*  in  Orange  County,  New  York. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  195 

He  shook  his  head,  sighed,  but  said  nothing,  and  soon  went 
awaj.  The  next  day,  he  came  again  and  behaved  in  the 
same  manner.  Stacy's  wife  began  to  think  strange  of  this, 
and  related  it  to  her  husband,  who  advised  her  to  urge  the 
old  man  to  an  explanation  the  next  time  he  came. 

4.  Accordingly,  when  he  repeated  his  visit  the  day  after, 
she  was  more  importunate  than  usual.  At  last,  the  old 
Indian  said,  "I  am  a  red  man,  and  the  pale  faces  are  our 
enemies  :  why  should  I  speak  ?" — "  But  my  husband  and  I 
are  your  friends :  you  have  eaten  salt  with  us  a  thousand 
times,  and  my  children  have  sat  on  your  knees  as  often.  If 
you  have  anything  on  your  mind,  tell  it  me." — "It  will 
cost  me  my  life  if  it  is  known,  and  the  white-faced  women 
are  not  good  at  keeping  secrets,"  replied  Naoman. 

5.  "  Try  me,  and  see." — ^'  Will  you  swear  by  your  Great 
Spirit  that  you  will  tell  none  but  your  husband  ?'' — '•  I  have 
none  else  to  tell." — "  But  will  you  swear  ?" — "  I  do  swear 
by  our  Great  Spirit,  I  will  tell  none  but  my  husband." 
'*  Not  if  my  tribe  should  kill  you  for  not  telling  ?" — ''  Not 
if  your  tribe  should  kill  me  for  not  telling." 

6.  Naoman  then  proceeded  to  tell  her  that,  owing  to  some 
encroachments  of  the  white  people  below  the  mountains,  his 
tribe  had  become  irritated,  and  were  resolved  that  night  to 
massacre  all  the  white  settlers  within  their  reach ;  that  she 
must  send  for  her  husband,  inform  him  of  the  danger,  and, 
as  secretly  and  speedily  as  possible,  take  their  canoe  and 
paddle,  with  all  haste,  over  the  river  to  Fishkill  for  safety. 
"  Be  quick,  and  do  nothing  that  may  excite  suspicion,"  said 
Naoman,  as  he  departed. 

7.  The  good  wife  sought  her  husband,  who  was  down  on 
the  river  fishing,  told  him  the  story,  and,  as  no  time  was  to 
be  lost,  they  proceeded  to  their  boat,  which  was  unluckily 
filled  with  water.     It  took  some  time  to  clear  it  out,  and, 


J96  SANDERS'    U]?>[I0^^    SERIES. 

meanwhile,  Stacy  recollected  his  gun,  which  had  been  left 
behind.  He  proceeded  to  the  house,  and  returned  with  it. 
All  this  took  up  considerable  time,  and  precious  time  it 
proved  to  this  poor  family. 

8.  The  daily  visits  of  old  Naoman,  and  his  more  than 
ordinary  gravity,  had  excited  suspicion  in  some  of  the  tribe, 
who  had,  accordingly,  paid  particular  attention  to  the  move- 
ments of  Stacy.  One  of  the  young  Indians,  who  had  been 
kept  on  the  watch,  seeing  the  whole  fimily  about  to  take  to 
the  boat,  ran  to  the  little  Indian  village,  about  a  mile  off, 
and  gave  the  alarm.  Five  Indians  collected,  ran  down  to 
the  river,  where  their  canoes  were  moored,  jumped  in,  and 
paddled  after  Stacy,  who,  by  this  time,  had  got  some  distance 
out  into  the  stream. 

9.  They  gained  on  him  so  fast,  that  twice  he  dropped  his 
paddle,  and  took  up  his  gun.  But  his  wife  prevented  his 
shooting  by  telling  him  that,  if  he  fired,  and  they  were  after- 
wards overtaken,  they  would  meet  with  no  mercy  from  the 
Indians.  He  accordingly  refrained,  and  phed  his  paddle 
till  the  sweat  rolled  in  big  drops  down  his  forehead.  All 
would  not  do  ;  they  were  overtaken  within  a  hundred  yards 
from  the  shore,  and  carried  back  with  shouts  of  yelling 
triumph. 

10.  When  they  got  ashore,  the  Indians  set  fire  to  Stacy's 
house,  and  dragged  himself,  his  wdfe,  and  children,  to  their 
village.  Here  the  principal  old  men,  and  Naoman  among 
them,  assembled  to  deliberate  on  the  affair.  The  chief  men 
of  the  council  stated  that  some  of  the  tribe  had,  undoubtedly, 
been  guilty  of  treason,  in  apprising  Stacy,  the  white  man, 
of  the  designs  of  the  tribe,  whereby  they  took  the  alarm, 
and  well-nigh  escaped. 

11.  He  proposed  to  examine  the  prisoners,  to  learn  who 
gave  the  information.     The  old  men  assented  to  this,  and 


NUMBER    lOUU.  lO^ 

Naoman  among  the  rest.  Stacy  was  first  interrogated  by 
one  of  the  old  men,  who  spoke  English  and  interpreted  to 
the  others.  Stacy  refused  to  betray  his  informant.  His 
wife  was  then  questioned ;  while,  at  the  same  moment,  two 
Indians  stood  threatening  the  two  children,  with  tomahawks, 
in  case  she  did  not  confess. 

12.  She  attempted  to  evade  the  truth,  by  declaring  she 
Lad  a  dream  the  night  before,  which  alarmed  her,  and  that 
she  had  persuaded  her  husband  to  fly.  "The  Great  Spirit 
never  deigns  to  talk  in  dreams  to  a  white  face,"  said  the  old 
Indian.  "  Woman,  thou  hast  two  tongues,  and  two  faces. 
Speak  the  truth,  or  thy  children  shall  surely  die."  The 
little  boy  and  girl  were  then  brought  close  to  her,  and  the 
two  savages  stood  over  them,  ready  to  execute  their  bloody 
orders. 

13.  ''Wilt  thou  name,"  said  the  old  Indian,  "the  red 
man  who  betrayed  his  tribe'?  I  will  ask  thee  three  times." 
The  mother  answered  not.  "'Wilt  thou  name  the  traitor'? 
This  is  the  second  time."  The  poor  mother  looked  at  her 
husband,  and  then  at  her  children,  and  stole  a  glance  at 
Naoman,  who  sat  smoking  his  pipe  with  invincible  gravity. 

14.  She  wrung  her  hands,  and  wept ;  but  remained  silent. 
"  Wilt  thou  name  the  traitor'  ?  'Tis  the  third  and  last 
time."  The  agony  of  the  mother  waxed  more  bitter  ;  again 
she  sought  the  eye  of  Naoman ;  but  it  was  cold  and  motion- 
less. A  pause  of  a  moment  awaited  her  reply,  and  the 
tomahawks  were  raised  over  the  heads  of  the  children,  who 
bssought  their  mother  not  to  let  them  be  murdered. 

15.  "  Stop  !"  cried  Naoman.  All  eyes  were  turned  upon 
him.  "  Stop  !"  repeated  he,  in  a  tone  of  authority.  "  White 
woman,  thou  hast  kept  thy  word  with  me  to  the  last  moment. 
I  am  the  traitor.  I  have  eaten  of  the  salt,  warmed  myself 
at  the  fire,  shared  the  kindness,  of  these  Christian  white 


198  SANDERS'     U.\IOJV     SERIES. 

people,  and  it  was  /  that  told  them  of  their  danger.  I  am  a 
withered,  leafless,  branchless  trunk.  Cat  me  down,  if  you 
will:  I  am  ready." 

16.  A  yell  of  indignation  sounded  on  all  sides.  Naoman 
descended  from  the  little  bank  where  he  sat,  shrouded  his 
face  with  his  mantle  of  skins,  and  submitted  to  his  fate.  He 
fell  dead  at  the  feet  of  the  white  woman  by  a  blow  of  the 
tomahawk. 

17.  But  the  sacrifice  of  Naoman,  and  the  firmness  of  the 
Christian  white  woman,  did  not  suffice  to  save  the  lives  of 
the  other  victims.  They  perished, — how,  it  is  needless  to 
say ;  and  the  memory  of  their  fate  has  been  preserved  in 
the  name  of  the  pleasant  stream,  on  whose  banks  they  lived 
and  died,  which,  to  this  day,  is  called  Murderer's  Creek. 

Questions. — 1.  Where  is  Murderer's  Creek  ?  2.  "What  is  said  of  Naoman 
and  Stacy's  family  ?  3.  Why  did  Xaoman,  at  first,  refuse  to  tell  Mrs.  Stacy 
cf  her  danger  ?  4.  Did  Stacy's  family  make  their  escape  ?  5.  Where  were 
they  taken  ?  6.  Did  Mrs.  Stacy  tell  who  had  informed  her  ?  1.  What 
measures  did  the  Indians  adopt,  to  make  her  tell  ?     8.  What  did  Naomau 


f^T^m^^^ 


LESSON    LIII. 

Per'  il  ous,  hazardous ;  dangerous.  )  Av  a  lakche',  snow-slip. 

De  file$',  narrow  passages.  |  Crouch'  ed,  cringed. 

Prec'  I  PIC  E$,  steep  descents.  j  Ad  vance',  forward ;  proceed. 
Sol'  I  tude,  lonely  places.  Be  numb'  ed,  deprived  of  feeling. 

Am  mu  ni''  tion,  military  stores,  as     Ex  ploits',  heroic  deeds.         [clear, 

powder,  balls,  &c.  |  Il  lus'  trates,    explains;    makes 

Dra  goon$',  mounted  soldiers.  (  He  ro'  ic,  brave ;  fearless.        [lute. 

Sum'  mix,  top ;  highest  point.  \  Un  flinch'  ing,  determined ;  reso« 

Bay'  0  NET,  a  short,  pomted  instrument  of  iron,  or  broad  dagger,  fitted  to 
the  barrel  of  a  gun.  It  is  so  called,  because  the  first  bayonets  were  mad© 
at  Bayonne,  in  Prance. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  j^gg 

MAPOLEON^S    ARMY    CROSSING    THE    ALPS* 

1.  When  Napoleon  was  carrying  war  into  Italy,  he 
ordered  one  of  bis  officers,  Marshal  Macdonald,  to  cross  the 
Splugen  with  fifteen  thousand  soldiers,  and  join  him  on  the 
plains  below.  The  Splugen  is  one  of  the  four  great  roads 
which  cross  the  Alps  from  Switzerland  to  Italy. 

2.  When  Macdonald  received  the  order,  it  was  about  the 
last  of  November,  and  the  winter  storms  were  raging  among 
the  mountain  passes.  It  was  a  perilous  undertaking,  yet  he 
must  obey ;  and  the  men  began  their  terrible  march  through 
narrow  defiles  and  overhanging  precipices,  six  thousand  feet 
up,  up  among  the  gloomy  solitudes  of  the  Alps. 

3.  The  cannon  were  placed  on  sleds  drawn  by  oxen,  and 
the  ammunition  was  packed  on  mules.  First  came  the  guides, 
sticking  their  long  poles  in  the  snow,  in  order  to  find  the 
path ;  then  came  workmen  to  clear  away  the  drifts ;  then  the 
dragoons,  mounted  on  their  most  powerful  horses,  to  beat  down 
the  track ;   after  which  followed  the  main  body  of  the  army. 

4.  They  encountered  severe  storms  and  piercing  cold. 
When  half-way  up  the  summit,  a  rumbling  noise  was  heard 
among  the  cliffs.  The  guides  looked  at  each  other  in  alarm ; 
for  they  knew  well  what  it  meant.  It  grew  louder  and 
louder.  ^^An  avalanche!  an  avalanche P^  they  shrieked, 
and  the  next  moment  a  field  of  ice  and  snow  came  leaping 
down  the  mountain,  striking  the  line  of  march,  and  sweep- 
ing thirty  dragoons  in  a  wild  plunge  below.  The  black  forms 
of  the  horses  and  their  riders  were  seen  for  an  instant  strug- 
gling for  life,  and  then  they  disappeared  forever. 

5.  The  sight  struck  the  soldiers  with  horror ;  they  crouched 
and  shivered  in  the  blast.  Their  enemy  was  not  now  flesh 
and  blood,  but  wild  winter  storms  ;  swords  and  bayonets 
could  not  defend  them  from  the  desolating  avalanche.    Flight 


200  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

or  retreat  was  hopeless ;  for  all  around  lay  the  drifted  snow, 
like  a  vast  winding-sheet.  On  they  must  go,  or  death  was 
certain,  and  the  brave  men  struggled  forward. 

6.  "Soldiers!"  exclaimed  their  commander,  "you  are 
called  to  Italy;  your  general  needs  you.  Advance  and 
conquer,  first  the  mountain  and  the  snow,  then  the  plains 
and  the  enemy !"  Blinded  by  the  winds,  benumbed  with 
the  cold,  and  far  beyond  the  reach  of  aid,  Macdonald  and 
his  men  pressed  on.  Sometimes  a  whole  company  of  sol- 
diers were  suddenly  swept  away  by  an  avalanche. 

7.  On  one  occasion,  a  poor  drummer,  crawling  out  from 
the  mass  of  snow,  which  had  torn  him  from  his  comrades, 
began  to  beat  his  drum  for  relief.  The  muffled  sound  came 
up  from  his  gloomy  resting-place,  and  was  heard  by  his 
brother  soldiers ;  but  none  could  go  to  his  rescue.  For  an 
hour,  he  beat  rapidly,  then  the  strokes  grew  fainter,  until 
they  were  heard  no  more,  and  the  poor  drummer  laid  him- 
self down  to  die.  Two  weeks  were  occupied  in  this  perilous 
march,  and  two  hundred  men  perished  in  the  undertaking. 

8.  This  passage  of  the  Splugen  is  one  of  the  bravest 
exploits  in  the  history  of  Napoleon's  generals,  and  illus- 
trates the  truth  of  the  proverb,  ^^  Where  there  is  a  will 
there  is  a  loay^  No  one  can  read  the  heroic  deeds  of  brave 
men  grappling  with  danger  and  death,  without  a  feeling  of 
respect  and  admiration  ;  but  heroic  deeds  are  always  the 
fruit  of  toil  and  self-sacrifice.  No  one  can  accomplish 
great  things^  unless  he  aims  at  great  things^  and  pursues 
that  aim  with  unflinching  courage  and  perseverance. 

Questions. — 1.  "What  orders  had  Napoleon  given  to  Marshal  Macdonald  ? 
2.  What  time  of  year  was  it  ?  3.  Describe  the  march  of  the  army  over 
the  Alps.  4.  What  disaster  occurred  to  them  ?  5.  How  did  their  com- 
mander address  the  army  ?  6.  Describe  the  drummer  boy's  fate.  *l.  How 
many  men  perished  ?  8.  What  does  this  exploit  of  the  army  illustrate  ? 
9.  What  is  said  of  heroic  deeds? 


NUMBER    FOUR.  £01 


LESSON    LIY. 

pROv'  ERB$,  sayings ;  maxims.  j  Cope,  strive ;  contend. 

Trac'  ED,  shown ;  marked  out.  De  fy'  ing,  daring ;  outbraving. 

Woo'  ER$,  suitors ;  lovers.  >  Ghost,  specter ;  apparition. 


Dense,  close;  thick. 
Striv'  ing,  making  efforts. 


Re  ly'  ing,  trusting ;  depending. 
"Win'ning,  getting;  gaining. 


Con  trol',  restraint ;  government.      )  Bram'  ble$,  prickly  shrubs.   ' 
WHERE  THERE^S  A  WILL  THERE'S  A  WAY* 

Eliza.  Cook. 

1.  We  have  faith  in  old  proverbs  full  surely, 

For  wisdom  has  traced  what  they  tell, 
And  truth  may  be  drawn  up  as  purely 

From  them,  as  it  may  from  a  "  well." 
Let  us  question  the  thinkers  and  doers, 

And  hear  what  they  honestly  say, 
And  you'll  find  they  believe,  like  bol^  wooers, 

In  ^^  Where  there  s  a  will  there's  a  WAY." 

2.  The  hills  have  been  high  for  man's  mounting, 

The  woods  have  been  dense  for  his  ax, 
The  stars  have  been  thick  for  his  counting, 

The  sands  have  been  wide  for  his  tracks. 
The  sea  has  been  deep  for  his  diving, 

The  poles  have  been  broad  for  his  sway, 
But  bravely  he's  proved  by  his  striving. 

That  ^^  Where  there's  a  will  there^s  a  WAY." 


.  Have  ye  vices  that  ask  a  destroyer. 

Or  passions  that  need  your  control'  ? 

Let  Reason  become  your  employer. 

And  your  body  be  ruled  by  your  soul. 
4  U  g* 


202  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Fight  on,  though  je  bleed  at  the  trial, 
Resist  with  all  strength  that  ye  may, 

Ye  may  conquer  Sin's  host  by  denial, 

For/'  Where  there's  a  will  there's  a  WAY.'* 

4.  Have  ye  poverty's  pinching  to  cope  with'  ? 

Does  suffering  weigh  down  your  might'  ? 
Only  call  up  a  spirit  to  hope  with, 

And  dawn  may  come  out  of  the  night. 
Oh  !  much  may  be  done  by  defying 

The  ghost  of  Despair  and  Dismay, 
And  much  may  be  gained  by  relying 

On  ^^  Where  there's  a  will  there's  a  WAY." 

5.  Should  ye  see  afar  off  that  worth  winning. 

Set  out  on  a  journey  with  trust. 
And  ne'er  heed  though  your  path  at  beginning 

Should  be  among  brambles  and  dust. 
Though  it  is  by  footsteps  ye  do  it. 

And  hardships  may  hinder  and  stay, 
Keep  a  heart  and  be  sure  ye  go  through  it, 

For,  ^^  Where  there's  a  will  there's  a  way." 

Questions. — 1.  "What  is  the  meaning  of  this  proverb,  "  Where  there's  a 
will  there^s  a  way  ?"  2.  What  instances  can  you  mention  in  which  its  truth 
has  been  realized  ?     3.  Do  you  apply  this  proverb  in  getting  your  lessons  ? 

LESSON    LV. 

Tal'  i$  man,  charm ;  amulet.  i  Tense'  ly,  tightly. 

Yan,  front  or  head  of  an  army.  >  Swerve$,  deviates. 

Pi'  er  y,  ardent ;  passionate.  \  Daunt,  frighten ;  terrify. 

Plume$,  supplies  with  feathers.         \  Ban'  ish,  expel ;  drive  away. 

Tel'  e  graph,  (tele,  /or  off;  graph,  writing  or  marlcing,)  a  machine  to 
convey  news  far  ofif.    See  Sanders'  New  Speller,  page  161,  Ex.  419. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  203 

**l     CAN  I" 

1.  "I  can!"  oh  yes, — we  know  you  can! 

We  read  it  in  your  eye ; 
There  is  a  mystic  talisman 
^  Flashing  all  gloriously  ! 
Speak  it  out  boldly,  let  it  ring, 

There  is  a  volume  there, 
There's  meaning  in  the  eagle's  wing; 

Then  soar,  and  do,  and  dare  ! 

2.  '^I  can!"  climbs  to  the  mountain  top, 

And  plows  the  billowy  main ; 
He  lifts  the  hammer  in  the  shop, 

And  drives  the  saw  and  plane ; 
He's  fearless  in  the  battle  shock, 

And  always  leads  the  van 
Of  young  America's  brave  sons,^ 

They  never  quailed  nor  ran. 

8.   "  I  CAN  !"     He  is  a  fiery  youth. 

And  WILL  a  brother  twin, 
And,  arm  in  arm,  in  love  and  truth, 

They'll  either  die  or  win. 
Shoulder  to  shoulder,  ever  ready, 

All  firm  and  fearless  still 
These  brothers  labor,^ — true  and  steady,— 

*'  I  CAN,"  and  brave  ''  I  will." 


"I  CAN," e'en  on  his  pleasure  trips, 
Travels  by  telegraph ; 
He  plumes  the  snowy  wing  of  ships, 
And  never  works  by  half  j 


204  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

His  music  is  the  humming  loom, 

And  shuttles  are  his  dancers, 
Then  clear  the  way,  and  quick  give  room 

For  the  noble-souled  ''  I  can,"  sirs ! 

5.  "I  CAN  I"     Indeed,  we  know  you  can  I 

'Tis  lithe  in  every  limb. 
To  your  blood  'tis  a  busy  fan, 

How  can  the  flame  burn  dim  ? 
It  tensely  draws  your  sturdy  nerves,— 

No  bow's  without  a  string, 
And  when  nor  bow,  nor  bow-string  swerves, 

An  arrow's  on  the  wing. 

6.  ''  There  is  a  magic  in  the  power 

Of  an  unbending  will, 
That  makes  us  stronger  every  hour, 

For  greater  efforts  still. 
Then  banish  from  you  every  can't, 

And  show  yourself  a  man, 
And  nothing  will  your  purpose  daunt. 

Led  by  the  brave  "  I  can  !" 

Questions. — 1.  What  does  "/  can''  do?    2.  Who  is  called  hia  twin 
brother  ?    3.  What  is  said  of  an  unbending  will  ? 

LESSON    LVI. 

Cls'  ED,  invested.  \  Weap'  on$,  instruments  for  defense, 

Arm'  or,  defensive  arms.  |      or  offense. 

Storm'  ing,  taking  by  assault.  |  Un  wor'  thy,  undeserving. 

Air'  y,  fanciful ;  visionary.  j  Ee  gret',  sorrow  for  the  past. 

Por'  tress,  fort ;  strong-hold.  \  Phan'  tom,  specter ;  ghosifolike. 

Pb  taci',  hinder;  keep  back.  \  Scarce'  ly,  hardly. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  205 

KOW,    TO-DAY* 

Adelaide  A.  Pbootbb. 

1.  Arise^  !  for  the  day  is  passing, 

And  you  lie  dreaming  on ; 
Your  brothers  are  cased  in  armor, 

And  forth  to  the  fight  are  gone  I 
A  place  in  the  ranks  awaits  you  ; 

Each  man  has  some  part  to  play ; 
The  Past  and  the  Future  are  nothing 

In  the  face  of  stern  To-day. 

2.  Arise  from  your  dreams  of  the  Future, — 

Of  gaining  some  hard-fought  field, 
Of  storming  some  airy  fortress. 

Or  bidding  some  giant  yield ; 
Your  Future  has  deeds  of  glory, 

Of  honor,  (God  grant* it  may!) 
But  your  arm  will  never  be  stronger, 

Or  needed  as  now, — To-day. 

3.  Arise^  !  if  the  Past  detain  you, 

Her  sunshine  and  storms  forget ; 
No  chains  so  unworthy  to  hold  you 

As  those  of  a  vain  regret ; 
Sad  or  bright,  she  is  lifeless  ever ; 

Cast  her  phantom  arms  away. 
Nor  look  back,  save  to  learn  the  lesson 

Of  a  nobler  strife  To-day. 

4.  Arisb^  !  for  the  day  is  passing ; 

The  sound  that  you  scarcely  hear, 
Is  the  enemy  marching  to  battle  ! 
(/)       Rise" !  RiSB^  I  for  the  foe  is  near  I 


206  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Stay  not  to  sharpen  your  weapons, 
Or  the  hour  will  strike  at  last, 

When,  from  dreams  of  a  coming  battle. 
You  may  wake  to  find  it  past ! 

Questions. — 1.  "What  reasons  are  assigned  why  we  should  arouse  to 
efifort  now,  to-day  ?  2.  What  rule  for  the  falling  inflection  on  arise  ?  See 
Rule  VIII.,  page  33.  3.  How,  according  to  the  notation  mark,  should  the 
last  verse  be  read? 


LESSON    LVII. 

Rev  0  Lu'  tion,   change  of  govern-  l  In'  ter  view,  meeting ;  conference. 

Fan' CI  ED,  thought;  imagined,  [ment.  Sol'  i  ta  ry,  lonely;  retired. 

Un  gen'er  ous,  mean;  ignoble.         j  Con  grat'  u  la  ting,  rejoicing  with. 

Ac  knowl'  edg  ED,  owned.  Is'  su  ed,  started  up ;  came  forth. 

Plot'  ting,  planning ;  contriving.  Sus  pect'  ing,  mistrusting. 

De  sign',  purpose ;  intention.  >  De  tect'  ed,  exposed ;  foimd  out. 

Cor  re  spond'  ence,  intercourse  by  A'  mi  a  ble,  lovely ;  agreeable. 

Con'  quest,  victory.  [letters.  !  Fel'  on,  criminal. 

Con'  se  quence,  (con,  with;  sequence,  a  following,)  a  following  witli,  as 
an  effect,  or  result. 

Im  press' IVE,  (iM,  in;  press,  to  bear  upon;  ive,  tending  to,)  tendmg  to 
press  in,  or  upon;  producing  an  effect. 

In  volv'  ed,  (in,  in ;  volved,  rolled,)  rolled  in  ;  enveloped. 

THE  CAPTURE  OF  MAJOR  ANDRE* 

1.  One  of  the  saddest  events  in  the  history  of  the  Amer- 
ican Revolution  is  the  treason  of  Arnold,  and,  in  conse- 
quence of  it,  the  death  of  Major  Andre.  Arnold  was  an 
officer  in  the  American  army,  who,  though  hrave,  had  a 
proud  and  impatient  spirit. 

2.  He  fancied  he  had  not  all  the  honor  and  the  pay  due 
£br  his  services,  and,  having  plunged  himself  into  debt  by 


NUMBER    FOUR.  207 

his  expensive  style  of  living,  these  things  soured  his  heart ; 
and,  as  is  the  case  with  ungenerous  minds,  he  never  ac- 
knowledged a  fault,  or  forgave  an  injury.  More  than  this, 
he  sought  revenge  against  his  countrymen  by  plotting 
treason  against  his  country. 

3.  Soon  after  forming  this  bad  design,  he  opened  a  secret 
correspondence  with  the  English  General,  Henry  Clinton, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  asked  General  Washington  to  give  him 
the  command  of  West  Point,  an.  important  post  on  the 
Hudson  river.  Washington  let  him  have  it,  and  this  he 
determined  to  betray  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  provided 
he  could  make  out  of  it  a  good  bargain  for  himself. 

4.  He  wrote  to  General  Clinton  what  he  would  do,  and 
asked  to  have  a  secret  interview  with  some  English  officer, 
in  order  to  agree  upon  the  terms.  General  Clinton  was 
delighted ;  for  he  thought  an  army  divided  against  itself, 
must  prove  an  easy  conquest,  and  he  asked  Major  Andre,  a 
gallant  young  officer,  to  meet  Arnold,  and  settle  the  price 
of  his  treason. 

5.  Andre  did  not  wish  to  engage  in  such  business  ;  but 
he  obeyed,  and  went  up  the  Hudson  in  an  English  sloop-of- 
war  for  this  purpose.  Arnold  agreed  to  meet  him  at  a  cer- 
tain spot,  and  when  night  came  on,  sent  a  little  boat  to  bring 
him  ashore.  He  landed  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain  called  the 
Long  Clove,  on  the  western  side  of  the  river,  a  few  miles 
from  Haverstraw,  where  he  found  the  traitor  hid  in  a  clump 
of  bushes. 

6.  Little  did  poor  Andre  foresee  the  fatal  consequences  of 
this  step.  All  that  still  star-light  night  they  sat  and  talked ; 
daylight  came,  and  the  business  was  not  concluded.  Arnold 
dismissed  the  boatmen,  and  led  his  companion  to  a  solitary 
farm-house  on  the  river's  bank,  where  the  papers  were 
finally  drawn  up,  and   hid  in  one  of  Andre's  stockings. 


208  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Andre  felt  how  exposed  he  was  to  danger  in  the  enemy's 
country,  and  heartily  wished  himself  back  to  the  sloop. 

7.  Forced  now,  however,  to  go  by  land,  Arnold  gave  him 
a  pass  to  go  through  the  American  lines,  and,  at  sunset,  he 
set  off,  on  horseback,  with  a  guide.  They  crossed^  the  river 
and,  getting  along  on  their  dangerous  journey  with  but  few 
alarms,  the  guide  left  the  next  morning,  and  Andre  rode 
briskly  on,  congratulating  himself  upon  leaving  all  dangers 
behind,  for  he  was  rapidly  nearing  the  English  lines,  when 
there  was  a  loud  shout,  ^^  Stand!  halt  !"  and  three  men* 
issued  from  the  woods,  one  seizing  the  bridle,  and  the  others 
presenting  their  guns. 

8.  Andre  told  them  he  had  a  pass  to  White  Plains,  on 
urgent  business  from  General  Arnold,  and  begged  them  not 
to  detain  him ;  but  the  men,  suspecting  that  all  was  not 
right,  began  to  search  him,  and,  hauling  off  his  boots,  they 
discovered  his  papers  in  his  stockings. 

9.  Finding  himself  detected,  he  offered  them  any  sum  of 
money,  if  they  would  let  him  go.  "No;"  answered  the 
sturdy  men,  ''  not  if  you  would  give  us  ten  thousand 
guineas:"  for,  though  poor,  they  were  above  selling  their 
country  at  any  price.  Andre  was  sent  a  prisoner  to  General 
Washington's  camp.  Arnold,  on  learning  the  news  of  his 
capture,  immediately  fled  from  West  Point,  and  made  his 
escape  to  the  English  sloop. 

10.  According  to  the  rules  of  war,  poor  Andre  was  sen- 
tenced to  the  death  of  a  spy.  Great  efforts  were  made  to 
save  him.  General  Clinton  offered  a  large  sum  to  redeem 
him.  So  young,  so  amiable,  so  gallant^  and  to  meet  a  felon's 
doom  !  but,  in  ten  days  he  was  hung. 

11.  Arnold  lived ;  but,  with  the  thirty  thousand  dollars — 

*  Paulding,  "Williains,  and  Yan  "Wart. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  209 

the  price  of  his  treachery — he  lived  a  miserable  man,  de- 
spised even  by  those  who  bought  him.  And  one  impressive 
lesson  which  the  story  teaches,  is,  that  the  consequences  of 
guilt  do  not  fall  alone  on  the  guilty  man  ;  others  are  often 
involved  in  distress,  disgrace,  and  ruin. 

Questions. — 1-  What  is  one  of  the  saddest  events  in  the  history  of  the 
American  Revolution  ?  2.  Who  was  Arnold  ?  3.  What  reason  is  assigned 
why  he  plotted  treason  against  his  country  ?  4.  What  measures  did  he 
adopt  to  do  this?  5.  With  whom,  and  where  did  he  make  the  agreement? 
6.  By  whom  was  Andre  detected?     T.  What  became  of  Andre  and  Arnold? 


LESSON   LVIII. 

Se  our'  ED,  obtained.  j  So  Lie'  it  ed,  asked ;  requested, 

■He$''  I  TA  TED,  .paused.  <  Cos  tume',  mode  of  dress. 

Mi$'  ER  A  BLE,  wretched.  >  Yig'  or  ous,  stout ;  strong. 

Sup'  pli  ant,  petitioner ;  beggar.  j  Syn'  o  nym,   a  word  meaning  tha 

Pe  cul' lAR,  singular;  remarkable.  ?  same  as  some  other. word. 

In  010'  A  TiVE,  showing ;  intimating.  1  In'  fa  my,  utter  disgrace. 

*  Tal'  ley  rand,  a  distinguished  French  statesman,  was  born  Feb.  13th. 
1754     He  died  May  20th,  1838. 

BENEDICT   ARNOLD* 

1.  There  was  a  day  when  Talleyrand^  arrived  in  Havre, 
direct  from  Paris.  It  was  the  darkest  hour  of  the  French 
Revolution.  Pursued  by  the  blood-hounds  of  the  Reign  of 
Terror,  stripped  of  every  wreck  of  property  or  power,  Tal- 
leyrand secured  a  passage  to  America,  in  a  ship  about  to 
sail.  He  was  a  beggar  and  a  wanderer  in  a  strange  land,  to 
earn  his  bread  by  daily  labor. 

2.  *'l3  there  an  American  staying  at  your  house?"  he 
asked  the  landlord  of  the  hotel.  '"  I  am  bound  to  cross  the 
water,  and  would  like  a  letter  to  a  person  of  influence  in  the 


210  SANDEIIS'    U.VION    SERIES. 

New  World."  The  landlord  hesitated  a  moment,  then  re- 
plied :  "  There  is  a  gentleman  up-stairs,  either  from  Amer- 
ica or  Britain  ;  but  whether  an  American  or  an  Englishman, 
I  can  not  tell." 

3.  He  pointed  the  way,  and  Talleyrand,  who,  in  his  life, 
was  Bishop,  Prince,  and  Prime  Minister,  ascended  the  stairs. 
A  miserable  suppliant,  he  stood  before  the  stranger's  door, 
knocked,  and  entered.  In  the  far  corner  of  the  dimly- 
lighted  room,  sat  a  man  of  some  fifty  years,  his  arms  folded, 
and  his  head  bowed  on  his  breast.  From  a  window  directly 
opposite,  a  faint  light  rested  on  his  forehead. 

4.  His  eyes  looked  from  beneath  the  downcast  brows,  and 
gazed  on  Talleyrand's  face  with  a  peculiar  and  searching 
expression.  His  face  was  striking  in  outline, — the  mouth 
and  chin  indicative  of  an  iron  will.  His  form,  vigorous,  even 
with  the  snows  of  fifty  winters,  was  clad  in  a  dSirk,  but  rich 
and  distinguished  costume. 

5.  Talleyrand  advanced,  stated  that  he  was  a  fugitive ; 
and,  under  the  impression  that  the  gentleman  before  him 
was  an  American,  he  solicited  his  kind  and  generous  offices. 
He  related  his  history  in  eloquent  French  and  broken 
English. 

6.  "  I  am  a  wanderer,  and  an  exile.  I  am  forced  to  flee 
to  the  New  World,  without  a  friend  or  home.  You  are  an 
American !  Give  me,  then,  I  beseech  you,  a  letter  of  yours, 
so  that  I  may  be  able  to  earn  my  bread.  I  am  willing  to 
toil  in  any  manner  ;  the  scenes  of  Paris  have  seized  me  with 
such  horror,  that  a  life  of  labor  would  be  a  paradise  to  a 
career  of  luxury  in  France.  You  will  give  me  a  letter  to 
one  of  your  friends  ?  A  gentleman  like  yourself  has, 
doubtless,  many  friends." 

T.  The  strange  gentleman  rose.  With  a  look  that  Tal- 
leyrand never  forgot,  he  retreated  to  the  door  of  the  next 


IVUMBER    FOUR.  £1  ]^ 

chamber, — his  eyes  looking  still  from  beneath  his  darkened 
brow.  He  spoke  as  he  retreated  backward, — his  voice  was 
full  of  meaning.  "I  am  the  only  man  born  in  the  New 
World,  who  can  raise  his  hand  to  God  and  say,  I  have  not 
a  friend,  not  one,  in  all  America!"  Talleyrand  never  for- 
got the  overwhelming  sadness  of  that  look  which  accom- 
panied these  words. 

8.  "Who  are  you?"  he  cried,  as  the  strange  man  re- 
treated to  the  next  room  :  "  your  name  ?"  "  My  name,"  he 
replied,  with  a  smile  that  had  more  of  mockery  than  joy  in 
its  convulsive  expression, — ''my  name  is  Benedict  Arnold!" 
He  was  gone  :  Talleyrand  sank  into  his  chair,  gasping  the 
words,  ''Arnold,  the  Traitor  !" 

9.  Thus,  you  see,  he  wandered  over  the  earth  another 
Cain,  with  the  wanderer's  mark  upon  his  brow.  Even  in 
that  secluded  room,  in  that  inn  at  Havre,  his  crimes  found 
him  out,  and  forced  him  to  tell  his  name  :  that  name  the 
synonym  of  infamy.  The  last  twenty  years  of  his  life  are 
covered  with  a  cloud,  from  whose  darkness  but  a  few  gleams 
of  light  flash  out  upon  the  page  of  history. 

10.  The  manner  of  his  death  is  not  exactly  known;  but 
we  can  not  doubt  that  he  died  utterly  friendless, — that  re- 
morse pursued  him  to  the  grave,  whispering  "  John  Andre" 
in  his  ear, — and  that  the  memory  of  his  course  of  infamy 
gnawed  like  a  canker  at  his  heart,  murmuring  forever, 
"  True  to  your  country,  what  might  you  have  been,  O 
Arnold,  the  Traitor!'' 

Questions.— 1.  Who  was  Talleyrand  ?  2.  Why  was  he  obliged  to  flee 
from  Paris?  3.  Whom  did  he  seek  at  Havre  ?  4.  Why  did  he  wish  to  see 
the  stranger?  5.  Describe  the  appearance  of  this  stranger.  6.  What  did 
he  say  to  Talleyrand?  T.  Who  did  the  stranger  prove  to  be  ?  8.  What  is 
said  of  Arnold  ?  9.  Where  is  Havre  ?  10.  Where  is  Paris  ?  11.  What  is 
meant  by  New  World  ? 


212  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES, 


LESSON   LIX. 

Lo  00  mo'  tive,  steam-engine  to  pro-  (  E  nor'  mous,  immense  /  very  large. 

pel  rail-cars.  [contact.     As'  sets,  amounts  due. 

Col  lis'  ion,  (5  like  zh,)  shock  ;  violent  ^  Re  mit'  tance,  money  remitted. 
En  gin  eer',  one  who  manages  an  [  Pre  $erv'  ed,  secured ;  saved. 

engine.  j  Ma  tu'  ri  ty,  time  of  payment. 

Pre  cip'  i  ta  ted,  thrown  headlong.     Re  prieve',  respite.  [debts. 

Re-en  force'  ments,  additional  forces.    In  solv'  ent,  one  unable  to  pay  his 
Ob'  sti  NATE,  unyielding.  [  Prov  0  ca''tion,  incitement  to  anger. 

Corps,  (kore,)  body  of  troops.  i  IG  no  min'  i  ous,  disgraceful 

Bank'  rupt  cy,  insolvency.  J  Sao  RI  no'  ed,  (c  Uke  z,)  thrown  away. 


BEHIWO    TIME> 

Frkkman  Hunt. 

1.  A  RAILROAD  train  was  rushing  along  at  almost  light- 
ning speed.  A  curve  was  just  ahead,  beyond  which  was  a 
station,  at  which  the  cars  usually  passed  each  other.  The 
conductor  was  late, — so  late  that  the  period,  during  which 
the  down  train  was  to  wait,  had  nearly  elapsed :  but  he 
hoped  yet  to  pass  the  curve  safely.  Suddenly,  a  locomotive 
dashed  into  sight  right  ahead.  In  an  instant,  there  was  a 
collision.  A  shriek,  a  shock,  and  fifty  souls  were  in  eter- 
nity ;  and  all  because  an  engineer  had  been  behind  time. 

2.  A  great  battle  was  going  on.  Column  after  column 
had  been  precipitated  for  eight  mortal  hours  on  the  enemy 
posted  along  the  ridge  of  a  hill.  The  summer  sun  was  sink- 
ing to  the  west ;  re-enforcements  for  the  obstinate  defenders 
were  already  in  sight ;  it  was  necessary  to  carry  the  posi- 
tion with  one  final  charge,  or  every  thing  would  be  lost.  A 
powerful  corps  had  been  summoned  from  across  the  country, 
and,  if  it  came  up  in  season,  all  would  yet  be  right.  The 
great  conqueror,  confident  in  its  arrival,  formed  his  reserve 
into  an  attacking  column,  and  led  them  down  the  hill.     The 


NUMBER    FOUR.  213 

"wbole  world  knows  the  result.  Grouchy*  failed  to  appear ; 
the  imperial  guard  was  beaten  back ;  Waterloo  was  lost. 
Napoleon  died  a  prisoner  at  St.  Helena,  because  one  of  his 
marshals  was  behind  time. 

3.  A  leading  firm  in  commercial  circles  had  long  strug- 
gled against  bankruptcy.  As  it  had  enormous  assets  in 
California,  it  expected  remittances  by  a  certain  day,  and  if 
the  sums  promised  arrived,  its  credit,  its  honor,  and  its 
future  prosperity  would  be  preserved.  But  week  after 
week  elapsed  without  bringing*  the  gold.  At  last,  came  the 
fatal  day  on  which  the  firm  had  bills  maturing  to  enormous 
amounts.  The  steamer  was  telegraphed  at  day-break ;  but 
it  was  found  on  inquiry  that  she  brought  no  funds ;  and  the 
house  failed.  The  next  arrival  brought  nearly  half  a  million 
to  the  insolvents,  but  it  was  too  late ;  they  were  ruined,  be- 
cause their  agent,  in  remitting,  had  been  behind  time. 
)  4.  A  condemned  man  was  led  out  for  execution.  He  had 
taken  human  life,  but  under  circumstances  of  the  greatest 
provocation,  and  public  sympathy  was  active  in  his  behalf 
Thousands  had  signed  petitions  for  a  Teprieve,  a  favorable 
answer  had  been  expected  the  night  before,  and,  though  it 
had  not  come,  even  the  sheriff  felt  confident  that  it  would 
yet  arrive  in  season.  Thus  the  morning  passed  without  the 
appearance  of  the  messenger.  The  last  moment  was  up. 
The  prisoner  took  his  place  on  the  drop,  the  cap  was  drawn 
over  his  eyes,  the  bolt  was  drawn,  and  a  lifeless  body  hung 
^suspended  in  the  air.  Just  at  that  moment  a  horseman 
came  into  sight,  galloping  down  the  hill,  his  steed  covered 
with  foam.  He  carried  a  packet  in  his  right  hand,  which  he 
waved  to  the  crowd.  He  was  the  express  rider  with  the 
reprieve.      But  he  had  come  too  late.      A  comparatively 

*  Pronounced    Groo' shee. 


214  SANDEllS'    UNION    SERIES. 

innocent  man  had  died  an  ignominious  death,  becnuse  a 
watch  had  been  five  minutes  too  slow,  making  its  bearer 
arrive  behind  time. 

5.  It  is  continually  so  in  life.  The  best  laid  plans,  the 
most  important  affairs,  the  fortunes  of  individuals,  the  weal 
of  nations,  honor,  happiness,  life  itself,  are  daily  sacrificed 
because  somebody  is  ''  behind  time."  There  are  men  who 
always  fail  in  whatever  they  undertake,  simply  because  they 
are  '^behind  time."  Five  minutes  in  a  crisis  are  worth 
years.  It  is  but  a  little  period,  yet  it  has  often  saved  a  for- 
tune, or  redeemed  a  people.  If  there  is  one  virtue  that 
should  be  cultivated  more  than  another  by  him  who  would 
succeed  in  life,  it  is  punctuality  ;  if  there  is  one  error  that 
should  be  avoided,  it  is  being  behind  time. 

Questions. — 1.  What  sad  results  are  mentioned,  in  consequence  of  being 
behind  time  7  2.  What  virtue  should  be  cultivated,  and  what  error  avoided  ? 
3.  What  is  the  use  of  the  diaeresis  in  the  vi oxdi  reenforcements'?  See  San- 
ders' New  Speller,  page  165. 

LESSON    LX. 

Twin'  ed,  interwoven.  ^  Throb'  bed,  beat ;  palpitated. 

Gar'  land,  wreath  of  flowers.  \  Co'  zy,  snug ;  comfortable. 

Mu$'  ED,  thought ;  meditated,  \  Ebb'  ed,   flowed  back. 

An  tique',  {an  teekf,)  ancient.  \  Jour'  net,  travel. 

Mold,  shape ;  form.  >  Long'  ing,    earnestlj  desiring. 

Kare,  scarce ;  seldom  seen.  <  Tie,  bond  of  affection. 

Sooth'  ed,  calmed ;  quieted.  ?  Riv'  en,   torn  asunder. 

'^HOW    HAPPY    Vhh    BEI" 

1.  A  LITTLE  girl  sat  amid  the  flowers, 

In  the  blush  and  bloom  of  childhood\ hours; 
She  twined  the  buds  in  a  garland  fair, 
And  bound  them  up  in  her  shining  hair ; 


NUMBER    FOUR.  215 

*'  Ah,  me  1"  said  she,  "  how  happy  Fll  6e, 
When  ten  years  more  have  gone  over  me, 
And  I  am  a  maiden  with  youth's  bright  glow 
Flushing  my  cheek,  and  lighting  my  brow !" 

A  maiden  mused  in  a  pleasant  room. 
Where  the  air  was  filled  with  a  soft  perfume ; 
Vases  were  near  of  antique  mold, 
And  beautiful  pictures,  rare  and  old ; 
And  she,  amid  all  the  beauty  there. 
Was  by  far  the  loveliest  and  most  fair. 
*'Ah,  me!"   said  she,  ^^  hoiv  happy  I'llbe^ 
When  my  heart's  own  choice  comes  back  to  me, 
When  I  proudly  stand  by  my  dear  one's  side, 
With  the  thrilling  joy  of  a  youthful  bride  1" 

A  mother  bent  o'er  the  cradle  nest. 
Where  she  soothed  her  babe  to  his  smiling  rest; 
She  watched  the  sleep  of  her  cherub-boy. 
And  her  spirit  throbbed  with  exulting  joy. 
"  Ah,  me  !"  said  she,  "  how  happy  III  be, 
When  he  reaches  manhood,  proud  and  free. 
And  the  world  bows  down,  in  its  rapture  wild, 
At  the  earnest  words  of  my  darling  child. 

An  aged  one  sat  by  the  cozy  hearth, 
Counting  life's  sands  as  they  ebbed  from  earth  j 
Feeble  and  frail ;  the  race  she  run 
Had  borne  her  along  to  the  setting  sun. 
"  Ah,  me !'  said  she,  ' '  how  happy  Fll  be, 
When  from  time's  long  fever  my  soul  is  free. 
When  the  world  fades  out  with  its  weary  strife, 
And  I  soar  away  to  a  better  life !" 


216  SA^iDERS'    U:VICN    SERIES. 

6.  'Tis  thus  we  journey  from  youth  to  age, 
Longing  to  turn  to  another  page, 
Striving  to  hasten  the  years  away, 
.  Lighting  our  hearts  with  the  future's  ray, 
Hoping  on  earth  till  its  visions  fade, 
Wishing  and  waiting,  through  sun  and  shade, 
But  turning,  when  earth's  last  tie  is  riven, 
To  the  beautiful  rest  of  a  fadeless  Heaven. 

Questions. — 1.  When  did  the  Kttle  girl  think  she  would  be  happy  ?  2. 
What  did  she  say  when  she  became  old  ?  3.  What  are  we  constantly  ex- 
pecting from  youth  to  age  ?  4.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  suffix  ing,  in 
Buch  words  as  longing,  striving,  lighting,  &c.  ?  See  Sanders  &  McElugott's 
Analysis,  page  134,  Ex.  It 6. 


LESSON    LXI. 

Vet'  er  an,  old  soldier.  J  Im  mor'  tal,  imperishable. 

Grasp'  ed,  seized  hold  of.  \  Rag'  ed,  was  furious. 

An'  oient,  old.  |  Re  main$',  still  exists. 

Mur'  MtTR  ED,  uttered  in  a  low  voice.  ]  Sire,  father. 
Light'  en  ed,  (en,  make ;  ed,  did,)  did  make  light. 

THE    SWORD    OF    BUNKER    HILL* 

William  E.  Wallaok. 

1.  He  lay  upon  his  dying  bed, 
(/?/)       His  eye  was  growing  dim. 

When,  with  a  feeble  voice,  he  called 

His  weeping  son  to  him : 
*^  Weep  not,  my  boy,"  the  veteran  said, 

*'I  bow  to  Heaven's  high  will; 
But  quickly  from  yon  antlers  bring, 
The  sword  of  Bunker  Hill." 


KUMBEU    FOUR.  217 

2.  The  sword  was  brought ;  the  soldier's  eje 

Lit  with  a  sudden  flame  ; 
And,  as  he  grasped  the  ancient  blade, 

He  murmured  Warren's*  name ; 
Then  said,  "My  boy,  I  leave  you  gold, 

But  what  is  richer  still, 
I  leave  you,  mark  me,  mark  me,  now, 

The  sword  of  Bunker  Hill. 

3.  "  'Twas  on  that  dread,  immortal  day, 

I  dared  the  Briton's  band, 
A  captain  raised  his  blade  on  me, 

I  tore  it  from  his  hand ; 
And  while  the  glorious  battle  raged. 

It  lightened  Freedom's  will ; 
For,  boy,  the  God  of  Freedom  blessed 

The  sword  of  Bunker  Hill. 

4.  "  Oh  !  keep  this  sword,"  his  accents  broke, — 

A  smile, — and  he  was  dead ; 
But  his  wrinkled  hand  still  grasped  the  blade. 

Upon  that  dying  bed. 
The  son  remains,  the  sword  remains. 

Its  glory  growing  still. 
And  twenty  millions  bless  the  sire 

And  sword  of  Bunker  Hill. 


Questions.— 1.  What  request  did  the  old  veteran  make  of  his  son  ?  2. 
"What  bequest  did  he  make  to  him  ?  3.  How  did  he  obtain  that  sword  ? 
4.  What  did  he  say  to  his  son  ?     5.  Who  was  Warren  ? 


*  General  Warren,  a  brave  and  valuable  officer,  fell  by  a  musket-ball, 
while  fighting  the  British  at  Bunker's  Hill,  June  17th,  IT 75. 
4  U  10 


218 


SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 


LESSON    LXII. 


Le'  dEND,  fictitious  narrative. 
Mor'  tal,  deadly. 
Com'  bat,  battle  ;"  conflict. 
Pri  me'  val,  first ;  primitive. 
Mxjs'  cu  LAR,  strong ;  vigorous. 
Ca  dav'  er  ous,   pale ;  sickly. 
Ref  u  gee',  runaway ;  fugitive. 
QU4r'  ter,  mercy ;  indulgence. 
Pin'  ion  ed,  confined ;  shackled. 
A  BYSS',  yawniag  gulf. 


Pro  po$'  al,  offer  ;  proposition. 

Im  bo'  $om  ED,  surrounded ;  inclosed. 

Di  SHEv'  EL  ED,  disordered. 

Con  fess'  ed,  owned;  acknowledged. 

Re  lent'  ing,  pitying;  corapassionato. 

Ran'  dom,  venture.  [lief. 

Su  PER  STi"  TiON,   false  religious  be- 
^  A  venge',  take  satisfaction  for. 
<  Un  con'  sciotjs,  unaware. 
i  Sub  lim'  i  ty,  grandeur. 


THE  BIBLE  LEGEND  OF  THE  WIS  SA  HT  KON* 

LlPPARI>. 

1.  It  was  here  in  the  wilds  of  the  Wissahi'kon,  on  the 
day  of  battle,  as  the  noonday  sun  came  shining  through  the 
thickly  clustered  leaves,  that  two  men  met  in  mortal  combat. 
They  grappled  in  deadly  conflict  near  a  rock  that  rose,  like 
the  huge  wreck  of  some  primeval  world,  at  least  one  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  dark  waters  of  the  Wis  sa  hi'kon. 

2.  That  man  with  the  dark  brow  and  the  darker  gray 
eye, — ^with  the .  muscular  form,  clad  in  the  blue  hunting- 
frock  of  the  Revolution, — is  a  Continental,  named  Warner. 
His  brother  was  murdered  at  the  massacre  of  Paoli.  That 
other  man,  with  long  black  hair  drooping  along  his  cadav- 
erous face,  is  clad  in  the  half-military  costume  of  a  Tory 
refugee.      That  is  the  murderer  of  Pao'li,  named  Dabney. 

3.  They  had  met  there  in  the  woods  by  accident ;  and 
now  they  fought,  not  with  sword  or  rifle,  but  with  long  and 
deadly  hunting-knives,  that  flash  in  the  light  as  they  go 
turning,  and  twining,  and  twisting  over  the  green-sward. 
At  last,  the  Tory  is  down  ! — down  on  the  green-sward,  with 
the  knee  of  the  Continental  upon  his  breast, — that  up-raised 


NUMBER    FOUR.  '  219 

knife  quivering  in  the  light, — that  dark-gray  eye  flashing 
death  into  his  face  ! 

4.  "Quarter!  I  yiekl!*'  gasped  the  Tory,  as  the  knee 
Tvas  pressed  upon  his  hreast.      "  Spare  me  ! — I  yield  !" 

5.  "My  brother,"  said  the  patriot  soldier,  in  a  low  tone 
of  deadly  hate, — "iWy  brother  cried  for  quarter  on  the 
night  of  Pao'li,  and,  even  as  he  clung  to  your  knees,  you 
struck  that  knife  into  his  heart.  Oh,  I  will  give  you  the 
quarter  of  Pao'li !"  And  his  hand  was  raised  for  the  blow, 
and  his  teeth  were  clinched  in  deadly  hate.  He  paused  for 
a  moment,  and  then  pinioned  the  Tory's  arms,  and,  with 
one  rapid  stride,  dragged  him  to  the  verge  of  the  rock,  and 
held  him  quivering  over  the  abyss. 

6.  "Mercy!"'  gasped  the  Tory,  turning  black  and  ashy 
by  turns,  as  that  awful  gulf  yawned  below.  ^'' Mercy  !  I 
have  a  wife!  a  child!  spare  me.'" 

7.  Then  the  Continental,  with  his  muscular  strength 
gathered  for  the  effort,  shook  the  murderer  once  miOre  over 
the  abyss,  and  then  hissed  this  bitter  sneer  between  his 
teeth, — "iliy  brother  had  a  ivife  and  tu'o  children.  The 
morning  after  the  night  of  Pa  o'li,  that  wife  was  a  widow, — 
those  children  were  orphans  !  Would  not  you  like  to  go 
and  beg  your  life  of  that  widow  and  her  children?" 

8.  The  proposal,  made  by  the  Continental  in  the  mere 
mockery  of  hate,  was  taken  in  serious  earnest  by  the  horror- 
stricken  Tory.  He  begged  to  be  taken  to  the  widow  and 
her  children,  to  have  the  pitiful  privilege  of  begging  his  life. 
After  a  moment's  serious  thought,  the  patriot  soldier  con- 
sented. He  bound  the  Tory's  arms  yet  tighter,  placed  him 
on  the  rock  again,  and  then  led  him  up  the  Avoods.  A 
quiet  cottage,  imbosomed  among  the  trees,  broke  on  their 
eyes. 

9.  They  entered  that  cottage.     There,  beside  the  desolate 


220  SANbEHS'    UNION    SERIES. 

hearth-stone,  sat  the  "widow  and  her  children.  She  was  a 
matronly  woman  of  about  thirty  years,  with  a  face  faded 
by  care,  a  deep,  dark  eye,  and  long,  disheveled  hair  about 
her  shoulder.  On  one  side  was  a  dark-haired  boy,  of  some 
six  years ;  on  the  other,  a  little  girl,  one  year  younger,  with 
light  hair  and  blue  eyes.  The  Bible,  an  old,  venerable  vol- 
ume, lay  open  on  that  mother's  lap. 

10.  And  then  that  pale-faced  Tory  flung  himself  on  his 
kneeSj  confessed  that  he  had  butchered  her  husband  on  the 
night  of  Pao'li,  but  begged  his  life  at  her  hands  !  ^^  Spare 
me,  for  the  sake  of  my  wife — mij  child  T''  He  had  ex- 
pected that  his  pitiful  moan  would  touch  the  widow's  heart; 
but  not  one  relenting  gleam  softened  her  pale  face. 

11.  "  The  Lord  shall  judge  between  us  !"  she  said  in  a 
cold,  icy  tone,  that  froze  the  murderer's  heart.  "  Look  I 
The  Bible  lies  open  before  me.  I  will  close  that  volume, 
and  then  this  boy  shall  open  it,  and  place  his  finger  at  ran- 
dom upon  a  line,  and  by  that  line  you  shall  live  or  die !" 
This  was  a  strange  proposal,  made  in  full  faith  of  a  wild  and 
dark  superstition  of  the  olden  time.  For  a  moment,  the 
Tory,  kneeling  there,  livid  as  ashes,  was  wrapt  in  thought. 
Then,  in  a  faltering  voice,  he  signified  his  consent. 

12.  Raising  her  dark  eyes  to  heaven,  the  mother  prayed 
the  Great  Father  to  direct  the  finger  of  her  son.  She  closed 
the  book,  and  handed  it  to  that  boy,  whose  young  cheek 
reddened  with  loathing  as  he  gazed  upon  his  father's  mur- 
derer. He  took  the  Bible,  opened  its  holy  pages  at  random, 
and  placed  his  fingers  upon  a  verse. 

13.  Then  there  was  a  silence.  That  Continental  soldier, 
who  had  sworn  to  avenge  his  brother's  death,  stood  there 
with  dilating  eyes  and  parted  lips.  Then  the  culprit,  kneel- 
ing on  the  floor,  with  a  face  like  discolored  clay,  felt  his 
heart  leap  to  his  throat.     Then,  in  a  clear,  bold  voice,  the 


NUMBER    FOUR.  221 

widow  read  this  line  from  the  Old  Testament.    It  was  short, 
yet  terrible  :   "  Tkat  man  shall  die  /" 

14.  Look!  The  brother  springs  forward  to  plunge  a 
knife  into  the  murderer  s  heart ;  but  the  Tory,  pinioned  as 
he  is,  begs  that  one  more  trial  may  be  made  by  the  little 
gill, — that  child  of  five  years,  with  golden  hair  and  laughing 
eyes.  The  widow  consents.  There  is  an  awful  pause. 
With  a  smile  in  her  eye,  without  knowing  what  she  does,  the 
little  girl  opens  the  Bible. — she  turns  her  laughing  face 
away, — she  places  her  fingers  upon  the  page. 

15.  That  awful  silence  grows  deeper.  The  deep-drawn 
breath  of  the  brother,  and  the  broken  gasps  of  the  murderer, 
alone  disturb  the  stillness.  The  widow  and  dark-eyed  boy 
are  breathless.  That  little  girl,  unconscious  as  she  was, 
caught  a  feeling  of  awe  from  the  countenances  around  her, 
and  stood  breathless,  her  face  turned  aside,  and  her  tiny- 
fingers  resting  on  that  line  of  life  or  death.  At  last,  gather- 
ing courage,  the  widow  bent  her  eyes  on  the  page,  and  read. 
It  was  a  line  from  the  New  Testament:  ^'LovB  your 
EXExMiES."     Ah  !  that  moment  was  sublime  ! 

16.  Oh,  awful  Book  of  God  !  in  whose  dread  pages  we 
see  Job  talking  face  to  face  with  Jehovah,  or  Jesus  waiting 
by  Samaria's  well,  or  wandering  by  the  waves  of  dark  Gal- 
ilee !  Oh,  awful  Book  !  shining  to-night,  as  I  speak,  the 
light  of  that  widow's  home, — the  glory  of  the  mechanic's 
shop, — shining  where  the  world  comes  n^t,  to  look  on  the 
last  night  of  the  convict  in  his  cellj  lightening  the  way  to 
God,  even  over  that  dread  gibbet  ! 

17.  Oh,  Book  of  terrible  majesty  and  childlike  love, — for 
sublimity  that  crushes  the  soul  into  awe, — of  beauty  that 
melts  the  heart  with  rapture  !  you  never  shone  more 
strangely  beautiful  than  there  in  the  lonely  cot  of  the  Wis- 
sahi'kon,  where  you  saved  the  murderer's  life.     For, — need 


222  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

I  tell  you? — that  murderer's  life  was  saved.  That  widow 
recognized  the  finger  of  God,  and  even  the  stern  brother  was 
awed  into  silence.     The  murderer  went  his  way. 

18.  Now  look  ye,  how  wonderful  are  the  ways  of  Heaven! 
That  very  night,  as  the  widow  sat  by  her  lonely  hearth,  her 
orphans  by  her  side, — sat  there  with  a  crushed  heart  and 
hot  eye-balls,  thinking  of  her  husband,  who,  she  supposed, 
now  lay  moldering  on  the  blood-drenched  soil  of  Pa  o'li, — 
there  was  a  tap  at  the  door.  She  opened  it,  and  that  hus- 
,  band,  living,  though  covered  with  wounds,  was  in  her  arms ! 
He  had  fallen  at  Pao'li,  but  not  in  death.  He  ivas  alive, — 
his  wife  lay  panting  on  his  breast.  That  night  there  was  a 
prayer  in  that  wood-embowered  cot  of  the  Wis  sa  hi'kon. 

Questions. — 1.  "What  two  men  are  said  to  Lave  engaged  in  deadly  com- 
bat? 2.  Which  gained  the  mastery?  3.  What  did  the  patriot  soldier  say 
to  the  Tory,  when  he  cried,  Quarter  ?  4.  What,  when  the  Tory  told  him 
he  had  a  wife  and  child  ?  5.  What  proposal  was  made  to  him  ?  6.  How 
was  his  fate  to  be  decided  ?  T.  Was  his  life  spared  ?  8.  What  proved  the 
justice  of  the  decision  ? 

LESSON     LXIII. 

Yes'  ti  bule,  porch,  entrance.  <  II  lu'  min  ate,  enlighten. 

Yi'  BiiATE,  move  to  and  fro.  Un  dee  stand'  ing,  intellect. 

Im  mor'  tal$,  undying  creatures.  \  Re  al'  i  tie$,  truths ;  facts. 

Mon'  u  ments,  memorials.  l  As  saults',  violent  attacks. 

A  chieve',  accomplish.  De  $er'  tion,  abandonment. 

Mu'  TA  BLE,  changeable.  <  In  ex  haust'  i  ble,  never-failing. 

Im  mor  tal'  I  TY,  deathless  existence.?  Char'  ter,  title ;  deed. 

ADVICE    TO    THE    YOUNG. 

E.  II.  Chapix. 

1.  YouNa  Friends',  in  whatever  pursuits  you  may  en- 
gage, you  must  not  forget  that  the  lawful  objects  of  human 
eiForts,  are   but  means  to  higher  results  and  nobler  ends. 


NUMBER   IFOUR.  223 

Start  not  forward  in  life  with  the  idea  of  becoming  mere 
seekers  of  pleasure, — sportive  butterflies  searching  for  gaudy 
flowers.  Consider  and  act  with  reference  to  the  true  ends 
of  existence. 

2.  This  world  is  but  the  vestibule  of  an  immortal  life. 
Every  action  of  your  life  touches  on  some  chord  that  will 
vibrate  in  eternity.  These  thoughts  and  motives  within  you, 
stir  the  pulses  of  a  deathless  spirit.  Act  not,  then,  as  mere 
creatures  of  this  life',  who,  for  a  little  while,  are  to  walk  the 
valleys  and  the  hills',  to  enjoy  the  sunshine  and  to  breathe 
the  air',  and  then  pass  away  and  be  no  more' ;  but  act  as 
immortals',  with  an  aim  and  a  purpose  worthy  of  your  high 
nature\ 

3.  Set  before  you,  as  the  chief  object  to  be' obtained,  an 
end  that  is  superior  to  any  on  earth\ — a  desirable  end^^  A 
PERFECT  end\  Labor  to  accomplish  a  work  which  shall 
survive  unchanged  and  beautiful,  when  time  shall  have 
withered  the  garland  of  youth\  when  thrones  of  power  and 
monuments  of  art  shall  have  crumbled  into  ashes^ ;  and, 
finally,  aim  to  achieve  something',  which,  when  these  our 
mutable  and  perishing  voices  are  hushed  forever',  shall  live 
amid  the  songs  and  triumphs  of  immortality  . 

4.  Well  will  it  be  for  you,  if  you  have  a  guide  within, 
which  will  aid  you  in  every  issue\  which  will  arm  you  in 
every  temptation',  and  comfort  you  in  every  sorrow\  Con- 
sult, then,  that  Volume  whose  precepts  will  never  fail  you. 
Consult  it  with  a  deep  aspiration  after  the  true  and  good, 
and  it  shall  illuminate  your  understanding  with  divine 
realities. 

5.  Open  your  soul,  and  it  shall  breathe  into  it  a  holy 
influence,  and  fill  all  its  wants.  Bind  it  close  to  your 
heart^ ;  it  will  be  a  shield  against  all  the  assaults  of  evil. 
Read  it  in  the  lonely  hour  of  desertion^ :  it  will  be  the  best 


224  SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

of  companions.  Open  it  when  the  voyage  of  life  is  troubled^; 
it  is  a  sure  chart.  Study  it  in  poverty^ ;  it  will  unhoard  to 
you  inexhaustible  riches.  Commune  with  it  in  sickness^ ;  it 
contains  the  medicine  of  the  soul.     Clasp  it  when  dying\ 

IT  IS  THE  CHARTER  OP  IMMORTALITY. 

Questions. — 1.  "What  ought  we  not  to  forget?  2.  How  ought  the  world 
to  be  regarded  ?  3.  How  ought  we  to  act  and  labor  7  4.  What  ought  we 
to  consult  ? 


LESSON    LXIV. 

In  TEEP' ID,  brave;  heroic.  I  Buf' feting,  beating  with  the  hands. 

Be  to'  ken  ED,  showed ;  indicated.  >  Ath  let'  ic,  strong ;  powerful. 

E  las'  tic,  springy  ;  agile.  <  Mi  rac'  u  lous,  wonderful. 

At'  ti  tude,  posture ;  position.  i  Tre  men'  dous,  terrible ;  frightful. 

Un'  der  growth,  shrubbery.  \  Des'  pe  rate,  rash ;  furious. 

Con  front',  stand  before.  |  In  vol'  tjn  ta  ry,  spontaneous. 

Ca  tas'  tro  phe,  disaster ;  calamity.  )  Cat'  a  ract,  waterfall. 

De  ter' RED,  hinsiiered;  prevented.  |  Re  sus'ci  tate,  revive;  bring  to  lifo. 

Hur'  ri  cane,  violent  tempest  )  Char'ac  ter  iz  ed,  distinguished. 

THE    INTREPID    YOUTH. 

1.  It  was  a  calm,  sunny  day  in  the  year  1750 ;  the  scene, 
a  piece  of  forest-land  in  the  north  of  Virginia,  near  a  noble 
stream  of  water.  Implements  of  surveying  were  lying  about, 
and  several  men  reclining  under  the  trees,  betokened,  by 
their  dress  and  appearance,  that  they  composed  a  party  en- 
gaged in  laying  out  the  wild  lands  of  the  country. 

2.  These  persons  had  apparently  just  finished  their  din- 
ner. Apart  from  the  group,  walked  a  young  man  of  a  tall 
and  compact  frame,  and  moved  with  the  elastic  tread  of  one 
accustomed  to  constant  exercise  in  the  open  air.     Ilis  coun- 


KUMBER    FOUR.  225 

tenance  wore  a  look  of  decision  and  manliness  not  usually 
found  in  one  so  young,  for  he  was  apparently  little  over 
eighteen  years  of  age.  His  hat  had  been  cast  off,  as  if  for 
comfort,  and  he  had  paused,  with  one  foot  advanced,  in  a 
graceful  and  natural  attitude. 

3.  Suddenly  there  was  a  shriek,  then  another,  and  several 
in  rapid  succession.  The  voice  was  that  of  a  woman,  and 
seemed  to  proceed  from  the  other  side  of  a  dense  thicket. 
At  the  first  scream,  the  youth  turned  his  head  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  sound;  but  when  it  was  repeated,  he  pushed 
aside  the  undergrowth  which  separated  him  from  it,  and, 
quickening  his  footsteps,  as  the  cries  succeeded  each  other 
in  alarming  rapidity,  he  soon  dashed  into  an  open  space  on 
the  banks  of  the  stream,  where  stood  a  rude  log-cabin. 

4.  As  the  young  man  broke  from  the  undergrowth,  he 
saw  his  companions  crowded  together  on  the  banks  of  the 
river,  while  in  the  midst  stood  the  woman,  from  whom  pro- 
ceeded the  shrieks,  held  back  by  two  of  the  men,  but  strug- 
gling vigorously  for  freedom.  It  was  but  the  work  of  a 
moment  for  the  young  man  to  make  his  way  through  the 
crowd  and  confront  the  female.  The  instant  her  eye  fell  on 
him,  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh  !  sir,  you  will  do  something  for  me. 
Make  them  release  me, — for  the  love  of  God  !  My  boy^ — 
ony  poor  boy  is  drowning^  and  they  will  not  let  me  go  P'' 
"It  would  be  madness;  she  will  jump  into  the  river," 
said  one,  "  and  the  rapids  would  dash  her  to  pieces  in  a 
moment !" 

5.  The  youth  had  scarcely  waited  for  these  words,  for  he 
recollected  the  child,  a  bold  little  boy  of  four  years  old, 
whose  beautiful  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  ringlets  made  him  a 
favorite  with  all  who  knew  him.  He  had  been  accustomed 
to  play  in  the  little  inclosure  before  the  cabin,  but  the  gate 
having  been  left  open,  he  had  stolen  incautiously  out,  reached 

4  U  10* 


226  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

the  edge  of  the  bank,  and  was  in  the  act  of  looking  oyer, 
when  his  mother  saw  him. 

6.  The  shriek  she  uttered  only  hastened  the  catastrophe 
she  feared  ;  for  the  child,  frightened  at  the  crj  of  its  mother, 
lost  its  balance,  and  fell  into  the  stream,  which  here  went 
foaming  and  roaring  along  amid  innumerable  rocks,  constitu- 
ting the  most  dangerous  rapids  known  in  that  section  of  the 
country.  Scream  now  followed  scream  in  rapid  succession, 
as  the  agonized  mother  rushed  to  the  bank. 

7.  The  party  we  left  reclining  in  the  shade  within  a  few 
steps  of  the  accident,  were  immediately  on  the  spot.  Fortu- 
nate it  was  that  they  were  so  near,  else  the  mother  would 
have  jumped  in  after  her  child,  and  both  been-  lost.  Several 
of  the  men  approached  the  brink,  and  were  on  the  point  of 
springing  in  after  the  child,  when  the  sight  of  the  sharp 
rocks  crowding  the  channel,  the  rush  and  whirl  of  the 
waters,  and  the  want  of  any  knowledge  where  to  look  for 
the  boy,  deterred  them,  and  they  gave  up  the  enterprise. 

8.  Not  so  with  the  noble  youth.  His  first  work  was  to 
throw  off  his  coat ;  next  to  spring  to  the  edge  of  the  bank. 
Here  he  stood  for  a  moment,  running  his  eyes  rapidly  over 
the  scene  below,  taking  with  a  glance  the  different  currents 
and  the  most  dangerous  of  the  rocks,  in  order  to  shape  his 
course  when  in  the  stream.  He  had  scarcely  formed  his 
conclusion,  when  he  saw  in  the  water  a  white  object,  which 
he  knew  to  be  the  boy's  dress,  and  he  plunged  into  the  wild 
and  roaring  rapids. 

9.  ''  Thank  God,  he  ivill  save  my  child^^^  cried  the 
mother  f**' Mere  he  is! — oh!  my  boy^  m,y  darling  boy^ 
how  cmdd  I  leave  you!^^  Every  one  had  rushed  to  the 
brink  of  tke  precipice,  and  was  now  following  with  eager 
eyes  the  progress  of  the  youth,  as  the  current  bore  him  on- 
■ward,  like  a  feather  in  the  embrace  of  the  hurricane.     Now 


NUMBER    FOUR, 


22T 


it  seemed  as  if  he  would  be  dashed  against  a  jutting  rock, 
pver  which  the  water  flew  in  foam,  and  a  whirlpool  would 
drag  him  in,  from  whose  grasp  escape  would  appear  impos- 
sible. 

10.  At  times,  the  current  bore  him  under,  and  he  would 
be  lost  to  sight ;  then,  just  as  the  spectators  gave  him  up,  he 
would  appear,  though  far  from  where  he  vanished,  still  buf- 
feting amid  the  vortex.  Oh,  how  that  mother's  straining 
eyes  followed  him  in  his  perilous  career !  how  her  heart  sunk 
when  he  went  under, — and  with  what  a  gush  of  joy  when 
she  saw  him  emerge  again  from  the  waters,  and,  flinging  the 
waves  aside  with  his  athletic  arms,  struggle  on  in  pursuit  of 
her  boy  ! 

11.  But  it  seemed  as  if  his  generous  eflbrts  were  not  to 
avail ;  for,  though  the  current  was  bearing  off  the  boy  before 
his  eyes,  scarcely  ten  feet  distant,  he  could  not,  despite  his 
gigantic  efforts,  overtake  the  drowning  child.  On  flew  the 
youth  and  child ;  and  it  was  miraculous  how  each  escaped 
being  dashed  in  pieces  against  the  rocks.  Twice  the  boy 
went  out  of  sight,  and  a  suppressed  shriek  escaped  the 
mother's  lips ;  but  twice  he  reappeared,  and  then,  with 
hands  wrung  wildly  together,  and  breathless  anxiety,  she 
followed  his  progress,  as  his  unresisting  form  was  hurried 
with  the  onward  current. 

12.  The  youth  now  appeared  to  redouble  his  exertions,  for 
they  were  approaching  the  most  dangerous  part  of  the  river, 
where  the  rapids,  contracting  between  the  narrow  shores, 
shot  almost  perpendicularly  down  a  declivity  of  fifteen  feet. 
Ttie  rush  of  the  waters  at  this  spot  was  tremendous,  and  no 
one  ventured  to  approach  its  vicinity,  even  in  a  canoe,  lest 
he  should  be  dashed  in  pieces.  What,  then,  would  be 
the  youth's  fate,  unless  he  soon  overtook  the  child?  He 
seemed   fully   sensible   of    the   increasing   peril,    and   noyf 


228  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

urged  his  way  through  the  foaming  current  with  a  des- 
perate strength. 

13.  Three  times  he  was  on  the  point  of  grasping  the 
child,  when  the  waters  whirled  the  prize  from  him.  The 
third  eflfort  was  made  just  as  they  were  entering  within  the 
influence  of  the  current  above  the  fall ;  and  when  it  failed, 
the  mother's  heart  sunk  within  her,  and  she  groaned,  fully 
expecting  the  youth  to  give  up  his  task.  But  no^ ;  he  only 
pressed  forward  the  more  eagerly  ;  and,  as  they  breathlessly 
watched  amid  the  boiling  waters,  they  saw  the  form  of  the 
brave  youth  following  close  after  that  of  the  boy. 

14.  And  now,  like  an  arrow  from  the  bow,  pursuer  and 
pursued  shot  to  the  brink  of  the  precipice.  An  instant  they 
hung  there,  distinctly  visible  amid  the  foaming  waters.  Every 
brain  grew  dizzy  at  the  sight.  But  a  shout  of  involuntary 
exultation  burst  from  the  spectators,  when  they  saw  the  boy 
held  aloft  by  the  right  arm  of  the  youth, — a  shout  that  was 
suddenly  checked  with  horror,  when  they  both  vanished 
into  the  abyss  below  ! 

15.  A  moment  elapsed  before  a  word  was  spoken,  or  a 
breath  drawn.  The  mother  ran  forward,  and  then  stood 
gazing  with  fixed  eyes  at  the  foot  of  the  cataract,  as  if  her 
all  depended  upon  what  the  next  moment  should  reveal. 
Suddenly  she  gave  the  glad  cry,  (/.)  "  There  they  are ! 
See!  they  are  safe! — Great  God,  I  thank  thee!"  And, 
sure  enough,  there  was  the  youth  still  unharmed,  and  still 
buffeting  the  waters.  He  had  just  emerged  from  the  boiling 
vortex  below  the  cataract.  With  one  hand  he  held  aloft  the 
child,  and  with  the  other  he  was  making  for  the  shore. 

16.  They,  ran,  they  shouted,  they  scarcely  knew  what 
they  did,  until  they  reached  his  side,  just  as  he  was  strug- 
gling to  the  bank.  They  drew  him  out  almost  exhausted. 
The  boy  was  senseless ;  but  hia  mother  declared  that  he  still 


NUMBER    Jb^OUR.  2ii) 

lived,  as  she   pressed  him  frantically  to  her  bosom.     The 
youth  could  scarcely  stand,  so  faint  was  he  from  his  exertions. 

17.  Who  can  describe .  the  scene  that  followed, — the 
mother's  calmness  while  she  strove  to  resuscitate  her  boy, 
and  her  wild  gratitude  to  his  preserver,  when  the  child  was 
out  of  danger,  and  sweetly  sleeping  in  hei*  arms  ?  Our  pea 
shrinks  at  the  task.  But  her  words,  pronounced  then,  were 
remembered  afterwards  by  more  than  one  w^ho  heard  them. 

18.  '''God  will  reward  you,^  said  she,  "  as  /  can  not.  He 
"will  do  great  things  for  you  in  return  for  this  day's  work, 
and  the  blessings  of  thousands  besides  mine  will  attend  you." 
And  so  it  was  ;  for,  to  the  he?'o  of  that  hour,  were  subse- 
quently confided  the  destinies  of  a  mighty  nation.  But, 
throughout  his  long  career,  what  tended  to  make  him  more 
honored  and  respected  beyond  all  men,  was  the  self-sacri- 
ficing spirit^  which,  in  the  rescue  of  that  mother's  child,  as 
in  the  more  august  events  of  his  life,  characterized  our 
BELOVED  Washington. 

Questions. — 1.  Describe  the  scene  where  this  accident  took  place. 
2.  What  did  the  woman  say  to  the  young  man  ?  3.  Why  would  not  the 
men  release  the  woman  ?  4.  What  did  the  young  man  do  ?  5.  Did  he 
finally  succeed  in  saving  the  child  ?  6.  What  did  the  mother  say  to  him  ? 
7.  Who  did  this  youth  prove  to  be  ? 

LESSON    LXV. 

Ply,  use ;  employ.  5  Ser'  ri  ed,  crowded ;  compacted. 

Brand,  sword.  |  Btjl'  wark,  fort ;  rampart. 

Charg'  er,  war-horse.  j  Squad'  ron$,  bodies  of  troops. 

Sway,  rule ;  government.  |  Bourn,  limit ;  boundary. 

Gov'  ERTS,  secret  places.  \  Ham'  let,  small  village. 

Haunt,  follow  up ;  frequent.  >  Strand,  shore  of  the  sea  or  lake. 
Cleave,  rive;  split.              [woods.  |  Marge,  border;  margin. 

WQQD'-CRiTT,    occupations   in  the  \  Grim,  stern;  rigid. 


230  SANDERS'    UNION    SJERXES. 

OUR   COUNTRY'S    CALL. 

William  C.  Bstant. 

1.  Lay  down  the  ax  ;  fling  by  the  spade ; 

Leave  in  its  track  the  toiling  plow ; 
The  rifle  and  the  bayonet  blade 

For  arms  like  yours  were  fitter  now : 
And  let  the  hands  that  ply  the  pen 

Quit  the  light  task,  and  learn  to  wield 
The  horseman's  crooked  brand,  and  rein 

The  charger  on  the  battle-field. 

2.  Our  Country  calls  ;   ("•)  away !  away  I 

To  where  the  blood-stream  blots  the  green; 
Strike  to  defend  the  gentlest  sway 

That  Time  in  all  its  course  has  seen. 
See,  from  a  thousand  coverts — see, 

Spring  the  armed  foes  that  haunt  her  track ; 
They  rush  to  smite  her  down,  and  we 

Must  beat  the  banded  traitors  back. 

3.  Ho !  sturdy  as  the  oaks  ye  cleave, 

And  moved  as  soon  to  fear  and  flight, 
Men  of  the  glade  and  forest,  leave 

Your  woodcraft  for  the  field  of  fight ! 
The  arms  that  wield  the  ax  must  pour 

An  iron  tempest  on  the  foe  ; 
His  serried  ranks  shall  reel  before 

The  arm  that  lays  the  panther  low. 

/' 

4.  And  ye,  who  breast  the  mountain  storm, 

By  grassy  steep  or  highland  lake, 
Come,  for  the  land  ye  love,  to  form 
A  bulwark  that  no  foe  can  break. 


NUMBER    FOUR, 


231 


Stand,  like  your  own  gray  cliffs  that  mock 
The  whirlwind  ;  stand  in  her  defense  ^ 

The  blast  as  soon  shall  move  the  rock 
As  rushing  squadrons  bear  ye  thence. 

5.  And  ye, whose  homes  are  by  her  grand, 

Swift  rivers,  rising  far  away, 
Come  from  the  depth  of  her  green  land, 

As  mighty  in  your  march  as  they  j 
As  terrible  as  when  the  rains 

Have  swelled  them  over  bank  and  bourn, 
With  sudden  floods  to  drown  the  plains, 

And  sweep  along  the  woods  uptorn. 

6.  And  ye,  who  throng  beside  the  deep, 

Her  ports  and  hamlets  of  the  strand 
In  number  like  the  waves  that  leap 

On  his  long  murmuring  marge  of  sand. 
Come,  like  the  deep,  when  o'er  his  brim 

He  rises,  all  his  floods  to  pour. 
And  flings  the  proudest  barks  that  swim, 

A  helpless  wreck  against  his  shore. 

7.  Few,  few  were  they  whose  swords  of  old 

Won  the  fair  land  in  which  we  dwell  ,* 
But  we  are  many, — we  who  hold 
The  grim  resolve  to  guard  it  well. 
(/.)  S'rike^for  that  broad  and  goodly  land^ 
Blow  after  blow^  till  inen  shall  see 
That  Might  and  Right  move  hand  in  hand^ 
And  glorious  must  their  triumph  be. 

Questions. — 1.  "What  does  the  writer  call  on  us  to  do  ?  2.  To  whom 
does  he  appeal  ?  3.  "Who  are  meant  \>j  few  in  the  last  verse  ?  4.  For 
what  are  they  to  strike  ? 


232  SASDEKS'    USIOi'- SERIES. 

LESSON   LXVI. 

Fu  Tu'  Ri  TY,  events  to  come.  c  Yaq'  a  bond,  vagrant;  worthless. 

Con  sult',  counsel  with.  Im'  pu  dence,  sauciness. 

Pre  ten'  sion$,  claims ;  assumptions.     Des'  ti  ny,  fate ;  final  lot. 

For'  ti  tude,  patience ;  endurance.  \  De  ceas'  ed,  dead. 

Mod'  el,  pattern ;  example.  De  priv'  ed,  robbed. 

IIe$  ig  na'  tion,  submissiveness.  |  In  cur'  red,  brought  on ;  caused. 

0  VER  WHELM$',  overcomes.  Con  sul  ta'  tion$,  counselings. 
In  grat'  I  TUDE,  unthankfulness.  i  Cal  cd"  la'  tion$,  reckonings. 

Pre  ter  nat'  u  ral,  (preter,  beyond^)  beyond  what  is  natural ;  mirac- 
ulous. ( 

In  volv'  ed,  (in,  in  ;  volved,  rolled ;)  rolled  in ;  enveloped. 

Jn  ter  rupt',  (inter,  in,  between ;  rupt,  to  break ;)  break  in  between ; 
stop;  hinder. 

^  Job,  a  patriarch,  celebrated  for  his  patience,  constancy,  and  piety. 

For  note  on  DAvid,  see  page  138. 

Note. — The  dash  at  the  end  of  a  remark,  denotes  that  the  speaker  i& 
interrupted  by  the  one  with  whom  he  is  conversing. 

MRS*  CREDULOUS  AND  THE  FORTUME-TELLER* 

Mrs.  Credulous.  Are  you  the  fortune-teller,  sir,  that 
knows  every  thing'? 

Fortune- Teller.  I  sometimes  consult  futurity,  madam; 
but  I  make  no  pretensions  to  any  supernatural  knowledge. 

Mrs.  C.  Ay\  so  you  say ;  but  every  body  else  says  you 
know  eve?'i/  thing ;  and  I  have  come  all  the  way  from  Boston 
to  consult  you  ;  for  you  must  know  I  have  met  with  a  dread- 
ful loss, 

P.  T.  We  are  liable  to  losses  in  this  world\  madam'. 

Mrs.  C.  Yes^ ;  and  I  have  had  my  share  of  them,  though 

1  shall  be  only  fifty,  come  Thanksgiving. 

F.  T.  You  must  have  learned  to  bear  misfortunes  with 
fortitude,  by  this  time. 

Mrs.  0.    I  don't  know  how  that  is,   though   my    dear 


NUMBER    FOUR.  233 

husband,  rest  his  soul,  used  to  saj,  "Mollj,  you  are  as 
patient  as  Job*,  though  you  never  had  any  children  to  lose, 
as  he  had." 

F.  T.  Job  was  a  model  of  patience,  madam,  and  few 
could  lose  their  all  with  so  much  resignation, 

Mrs.  C.  Ah,  sir',  that  is  too  true^ ;  for  even  the  small 
loss  /  have  suffered,  overwhelms  me  ! 

F.  T.  The  loss  of  property,  madam,  comes  home  to  the 
bosom  of  the  best  of  us. 

Mrs.  C.  Yes,  sir ;  and  when  the  thing  lost  can  not  ba  rcr 
placed,  it  is  doubly  distressing.  When  my  poor,  good  man, 
on  our  wedding  day,  gave  me  the  ring,  ^'Keep  it,  Molly," 
said  he,  ''till  you  die,  for  my  sake."  And  now,  that  I 
should  have  lost  it,  after  keeping  it  thirty  years,  and  locking 
it  up  so  carefully  all  the  time,  as  I  did — 

F.  T.  We  can  not  be  too  careful  in  this  world,  madam ; 
our  best  friends  often  deceive  us. 

Mrs.  G.  True,  sir,  true, — but  who  would  have  thought 
that  the  child  I  took,  as  it  were,  out  of  the  street,  and  brought 
up  as  my  own,  could  have  been  guilty  of  such  ingratitude  ? 
She  never  would  have  touched  what  was  not  her  own,  if  her 
vagabond  lover  had  not  put  her  up  to  it. 

F.  T.  Ah,  madam,  ingratitude  is  the  basest  of  all  crimes  I 

Mrs.  G.  Yes ;  but  to  think  that  the  impudent  creature 
should  deny  she  took  it,  when  I  saw  it  in  the  possession  of 
that  wretch  myself. 

F.  T.  Impudence,  madam,  usually  accompanies  crime, 
But  my  time  is  precious,  and  the  star  that  rules  your  des- 
tiny will  set,  and  your  fate  be  involved  in  darkness,  unless  I 
proceed  to  business  immediately.  The  star  informs  me, 
madam,  that  you  are  a  widow. 

Mrs.  G,  La !  sir,  were  you  acquainted  with  my  deceased 
husband  ? 


234  SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

F.  T.  No,  madam ;  we  do  not  receive  our  knowledge  by 
such  means.  Tb j  name  is  Mary,  and  thj  dwelling-place  is 
Boston. 

Mrs.  C.  Some  spirit  must  have  told  you  this,  for  certain. 

F.  T.  This  is  not  all,  madam.  You  were  married  at  the 
age  of  twenty  years,  and  were  the  sole  heir  of  your  deceased 
husband. 

Mrs.  C.  I  perceive,  sir,  you  know  every  thing. 

F.  T.  Madam,  I  can  not  help  knowing  what  I  do  know; 
I  must  therefore  inform  you  that  your  adopted  daughter,  in 
the  dead  of  night — 

Mrs.  G.  No,  sir ;  it  was  in  the  day-time. 

F.  T.  Do  not  interrupt  me,  madam.  In  the  dead  of 
night,  your  adopted  daughter  planned  the  robbery  which 
deprived  you  of  your  wedding-ring. 

Mis.  C.  No  earthly  being  could  have  told  you  this,  for  I 
never  let  my  right  hand  know  that  I  possessed  it,  lest  some 
evil  should  happen  to  it. 

F.  T.  Hear  me,  madam  ;  you  have  come  all  this  distance 
to  consult  the  fates,  and  find  your  ring. 

Mrs.  C  You  have  guessed  my  intention  exactly,  sir. 

F.  T.  Guessed' !  madam'.  I  know  this  is  your  object ; 
and  I  know,  moreover,  that  your  ungrateful  daughter  has 
incurred  your  displeasure,  by  receiving  the  addresses  of  a 
worthless  man. 

Mrs.  C.  Every  word  is  gospel  truth. 

F.  T.  This  man  has  persuaded  your  daughter — 

Mrs.  C.  I  knew  he  did,  I  told  her  so.  But  good  sir,  can 
you  tell  me  who  has  the  ring? 

F.  T.  This  young  man  has  it. 

Mrs.  C.  But  he  denies  it. 

F.  T.  No  matter,  madam,  he  has  it. 

Mrs.  C.  But  how  shall  I  obtain  it  again  ? 


NUMBER    FOUR.  235 

F.  T.  The  law  points  out  the  way,  madam, — it  is  my 
business  to  point  out  the  rogue, — you  must  catch  him. 

Mrs.  C.  You  are  right,  sir, — and  if  there  is  law  to  be 
had,  I  will  spend  every  cent  I  own,  but  I  will  have  it.  I 
knew  he  was  the  robber,  and  I  thank  you  for  the  informa- 
tion.    [  Going.  ] 

F.  T.  But  thanks,  madam,  will  not  pay  for  all  my 
lightly  vigils,  consultations,  and  calculations. 

Mrs.  C.  Oh,  right,  sir  !  I  forgot  to  pay  you.  What  am 
[  indebted  to  you  ? 

F.  T.  Only  five  dollars,  madam. 

Mrs.  C.  [Handing  him  the  money ^^^  There  it  is,'feir. 
I  would  have  paid  twenty  rather  than  not  have  found  the 
ring. 

F.  T.  I  never  take  but  five,  madam.  Farewell,  madam, 
your  friend  is  at  the  door  with  your  chaise. 

[He  leaves  the  room.] 

[Enter ^  Friend.] 

Friend.  Well,  Mary,  what  does  the  fortune-teller  say  ? 

Mrs.  C.  Oh,  he  told  me  I  was  a  widow,  and  lived  in 
Boston,  and  had  an  adopted  daughter, — and, — 

Friend.  But  you  knew  all  this  before,  did  you  not  ? 

Mrs.  C.  Yes  ;  but  how  should  he  know  it  ?  He  told  me, 
too,  that  I  had  lost  a  ring, — 

Friend.  Did  he  tell  you  where  to  find  it  ? 

Mrs.  C.  Oh  yes  !  he  says  that  fellow  has  it,  and  I  must 
go  to  law  and  get  it,  if  he  will  not  give  it  up.  What  do  you 
think  of  that  ? 

Friend.  It  is  precisely  what  any  fool  could  have  told  you. 
But  how  much  did  you  pay  for  this  precious  information  ? 

Mrs.  C.  Only  five  dollars. 

Friend.  How  much  was  the  ring  worth  ? 


236  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

ifr5.  C.  Why,  two  dollars,  at  least. 

Friend.  Then  you  have  paid  ten  dollars  for  a  chaise  to 
bring  you  here,  five  dollars  for  the  information  that  you  had 
already,  and  all  this  to  gain  possession  of  a  ring  not  worth 
one  quarter  of  the  expense ! 

Mrs.  C.  Oh,  the  rascal !  how  he  has  cheated  me !  I  will 
go  to  the  world's  end  but  I  will  be  revenged. 

Friend.  You  had  better  go  home,  and  say  nothing  about 
it ;  for  every  effort  to  recover  your  money,  will  only  expose 
your  folly. 

Questions. — 1.  What  had  Mrs.  Credulous  said,  by  which  the  fortune- 
teller knew  all  the  circumstances  relative  to  the  loss  of  her  ring?  2.  How 
was  she  told  she  must  get  her  ring  ?  3.  What  did  she  pay  the  fortune- 
teller ?  4.  How  much  for  the  chaise  ?  5.  What  was  her  ring  worth  ?  6. 
Was  she  a  bright  dame  ? 


^965^^36^^^^ 


LESSON    LXVII. 

TTn"  fal'  ter  ing,  steady.  s  Con  tent'  ment,  satisfaction. 

Con  fid'  ing  ly,  trustingly.  J  Mea'  ger,  scanty. 

Sooth'  ing  ly,  tenderly ;  calmly.  Con'  fi  dence,  faith ;  reliance. 

Al  lur'  ing,  seductive  ;  flattering,  j  As  suag'  ed,  relieved  ;  mitigated. 

Ap  pro'  pri  ate,   proper ;  peculiar.       Fer'  yen  cy,  heat ;  ardent  feeling. 

Sub  mis'  sion,  resignation.  \  Ra  di  a'  tion,  luster. 

In'  va  lid,  sick  or  infirm  person.  i  Fru  i"  tion,  realization ;  enjoyment. 

1  Al'  le  go  ry  is  a  word  of  Greek  origin.  It  is  made  up  of  two  parts 
all,  other;  and  egory,  discourse;  the  literal  meaning  of  the  compound 
being,  discourse  about  other  things ;  that  is,  things  other  than  those  ex- 
pressed by  the  words,  hterally  interpreted.  Allegory  is,  therefore,  the  gcn- 
aral  name  for  that  class  of  compositions,  as  Fables,  Apologues,  Parables,  and 
Myths,  in  which  there  is  a  double  representation,  one  literal  and  the  other 
figurative ;  the  literal  being  designed  merely  to  give  a  more  clear  and  im- 
pressive view  of  that  which  is  figurative. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  237 

FAITH,   HOPE,   AND   C H A R )( T Y *-An  Allegory.^ 

If 

1.  Many  years  ago,  three  beautiful  sisters  came  into  our 

world  to  lighten  the  burdens  of  earth's  toiling  pilgrims,  and 
aid  them  in  preparation  for  a  higher  state  of  existence. 
Alike  commissioned  by  the  Great  Father,  they  were  sent  on 
errands  of  mercy,  and  were  not  to  turn  away  from  scenes  of 
darkness,  sorrow,  and  suffering. 

2.  Faith  had  a  firm,  unfaltering  step ;  Hope,  a  beaming 
eye,  ever  turned  to  the  future  ;  and  Love,  a  pitying  glance, 
and  helping  hand.  They  journeyed  confidingly  together; 
and  when  they  found  a  stricken  being  in  danger  of  perishing 
by  the  wayside,  Faith  soothingly  whispered,  ''My  Father 
doeth  all  things  well;"  Hope  pointed  to  the  cooling  shade 
just  in  advance ;  and  Love  assisted  him  to  rise,  and  aided 
his  feeble  steps. 

3.  Groups  of  fair  children  played  near  the  path  where 
they  were  traveling.  Some  of  these  did  not  understand  the 
tones  of  Faith  ;  but  they  all  listened  eagerly  to  the  alluring 
strains  of  Hope,  who  painted  brighter  scenes  than  those  they 
were  enjoying,  and  flowers  more  fragrant  than  any  they  yet 
had  gathered.  Love  delighted  to  linger  with  the  youthful 
band,  lessening  their  trials,  and  increasing  their  pleasures. 

4.  Her  gentle  touch  arrested  the  little  hand  that  was 
lifted  against  a  playmate,  and  her  soothing  voice  calmed  tho 
angry  passions  which  were  swelling  in  the  bosom.  When  a 
child  stumbled  in  the  way,  she  tenderly  raised  it  up  again, 
or  when  a  thorn  pierced  the  unwary  finger,  she  kindly  re- 
moved it,  and  bound  up  the  bleeding  wound. 

5.  While  the  sisters  were  busy  in  their  appropriate  mis- 
sion, a  pale-cheeked  lad  mingled  with  the  group  of  merry 
children,  though  too  weak  to  share  their  sports.  Faith 
stole  to  his  side,  and  whispered  ©f  the  great  Parent  above, 


238  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

•who  afflicts  in  wisdom,  and  chastens  in  love.  His  eye  bright- 
ened while  she  spoke,  and  he  looked  upward  with  that  trust 
and  submission  which  he  had  never  before  exercised. 

6.  Then  Hope  came,  with  visions  of  returning  health, 
when  his  frame  would  be  strong  and  his  heart  buoyant. 
But  when  Hope  and  Faith  were  gone,  again  his  head 
drooped,  and  the  tear  started.  Then  Love  sat  down  by  the 
invalid,  twining  a  garland  of  summer  blossoms  for  his  pale 
brow,  and  singing  sweet  melodies  which  charmed  his  listen- 
ing ear.  The  pain  was  all  gone  now ;  smiles  wreathed  his 
pallid  lips,  and  the  sick  boy  laughed  as  merrily  as  his  more 
robust  companions. 

7.  The  sisters,  in  their  journeyings,  entered  the  abode  of 
poverty.  It  was  a  humble  dwelling,  and  yet  it  looked  cheer- 
ful, yea,  even  inviting,  when  the  three  graced  it  with  their 
presence.  Faith  shed  a  spirit  of  calm  contentment  and 
heavenly  trust  in  those  lowly  walls ;  Hope  whispered  of  the 
better  mansions  prepared  for  the  followers  of  the  Lamb ;  and 
Love,  not  less  exalted  than  her  sisters,  threw  a  charm  over 
the  meager  fare  and  scanty  attire  of  the  inmates.  Faith 
taught  them  to  offer  the  daily  prayer  in  trusting  confidence ; 
Hope  pointed  beyond  this  world  to  joys  which  eye  hath  not 
seen,  nor  ear  heard ;  while  Love  lessened  each  burden,  and 
increased  each  simple  pleasure.  Faith,  Hope,  and  Char- 
ity !  ye,  indeed,  can  make  a  paradise  of  the  humblest 
home! 

8.  There  was  a  darkened  chamber,  with  a  wan  form  toss- 
ing restlessly  uifon  the  couch.  Wealth  was  there ;  but  it 
could  not  allay  pain,  or  prolong  life.  Faith,  noiseless  as  a 
spirit  form,  glided  to  the  sick  one's  side.  "  Though  He  slay 
me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him,"  was  her  language,  as  she 
pointed  upward.  Hope  fain  would  have  whispered  of  length 
of  days,  but.  she  knew  this  could  not  be ;  so  she  spoke  of 


NUMBER    FOUR.  239 

life  eternal,  where  there  is  no  more  pain.  Then  Love 
smoothed  the  pillow,  and  bathed  the  fevered  brow,  pausing 
not  in  her  tender  ministries  through  the  night-watches. 
When  morning  dawned,  the  spirit  of  the  sick  man  passed 
away,  though  not  until  Faith,  and  Hope,  and  Love  had 
assuaged  the  anguish  of  the  parting  pang. 

9.  Weeping  mourners  gathered  around  the  dead.  There 
were  tears, — for  "tears  well  befit  earth's  partings;"  there 
was  sorrow, — for  what  bitterness  is  like  unto  that  of  the 
bereaved,  when  the  grave  opens  to  infold  the  heart's  best 
treasure?  Yet  Faith,  and  Hope,  and  Love  were  there, 
assuaging  those  tears,  and  mitigating  that  sorrow.  Faith, 
even  while  her  cheeks  were  wet,  exclaimed,  "  The  Lord 
gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  awaj ;  blessed  be  the  name 
of  the  Lord." 

10.  Hope's  language  was,  "Not  lost,  but  gone  before;" 
and  her  eje,  having  lost  none  of  its  briglitness,  saw  with 
prophetic  vision  a  reiinion  yet  to  come.  Love  tenderly 
wiped  away  each  gathering  tear,  and  gave  deeper  fervency 
to  the  trusting  confidence  of  Faith,  and  the  inspiring  strains 
of  Hope.  And  when  the  sleeper  was  committed  to  the  dust, 
these  gentle  sisters  lingered  in  the  lonely  house,  and  by  the 
darkened  hearth. 

11.  Such  are  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity, — given  by 
God  to  lighten  human  sorrow,  and  bless  the  creatures  He  has 
made.  They  have  each  a  mission  to  fulfill, — difierent,  it  is 
true,  and  yet  they  move  in  harmony.  Faith  enables  us  to 
submit  trustingly  to  daily  trials,  viewing  a  kind  Father's 
hand  in  each  passing  event.  Hope,  w^hen  the  sky  is  dark, 
and  the  path  thorny,  points  not  only  to  fairer  scenes  below, 
but  to  that  brighter  world  where  there  is  no  night  and  no 
sorrow. 

12.  Love  lightens  every  burden,  and  reflects  upon  earth 


240  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

a  faint  radiation  of  heavenly  blessedness, — for  the  Scriptures 
assure  us  that  "God  is  love:  and  every  one  that  loveth  is 
born  of  God."  The  time  will  come  when,  the  purposes  of 
the  wise  Creator  being  accomplished.  Faith  and  Hope  will 
cease.  Faith  will  be  lost  in  sight,  Hope  in  fruition  ;  but 
Love  will  remain,  binding  the  spirits  of  the  redeemed  in 
blissful  communion,  and  uniting  them  to  God  the  Father, 
and  Christ  the  Elder  Brother. 

13.  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity  !  blessed  spirits  !  May 
they  be  inmates  of  every  heart !  May  they  assist  each  of 
us  in  our  peculiar  trials,  which  none  can  know  but  our- 
selves 1  They  will  come  to  us  if  we  seek  their  presence  ; 
but  they  must  be  carefully  nurtured.  Let  us  cherish  them 
in  our  bosoms,  and  they  will  bless  us  constantly  in  our  pil- 
grimage below,  and  conduct  us  to  the  presence  of  our  God. 

^~  LESSON    LXVIII. 

Trans  poet'  ed,  highly  delighted.  |  Churl,  sour,  surly  man. 

Threat'  en  ing,  impending.  ?  Ee  fresh',  cool ;  make  fresh. 

Cor'  0  NAL,  crown  ;  chaplet.  \  Lan"guid,  dull ;  sluggish. 

Myr'.  I  AD,  innumerable.  i  Drouth'  y,  dry  ;  arid. 
Lus'  ciOUS,  delicious.  Sus  tain',  uphold ;  support. 

Lus'  TY,  strong ;  vigorous.  <  Un  grudg'  ing,  free-hearted ;  liberal. 

War'  bling,  singing ;  caroling.  \  ISTig'  gard,  miser ;  stingy  person. 

^^NOT    TO    MYSELF    ALONE," 

8.  W.  Pate  11  O.K. 

1.   *'  Not  to  myself  alone ^''^ 
The  little  opening  flower  transported  cries, 

"  Not  to  myself  alone  I  bud  and  bloom; 

With  fragrant  breath  the  breezes  I  perfume, 
And  gladden  all  things  with  my  rainbow  dyes. 


NUMBER    FOUR. 

The  bee  comes  sipping,  every  eventide, 

His  dainty  fill ; 
The  butterfly  within  my  cup  doth  hide 

From  threatening  ill." 

2.  "  Not  to  myself  alone,'' ^ 
The  circling  star  with  honest  pride  doth  boast, 
"  Not  to  myself  alone  I  rise  and  set; 
I  write  upon  night's  coronal  of  jet 
His  power  and  skill  who  formed  our  myriad  host ; 
A  friendly  beacon  at  heaven's  open  gate, 

I  gem  the  sky, 
That  man  might  ne'er  forget,  in  every  fate. 
His  home  on  high." 

8.  ^^  Not  to  myself  alone,  ^■ 
The  heavy-laden  bee  doth  murmuring  lium, 
^'  Not  to  myself  alone,  from  flower  to  flower, 
I  rove  the  wood,  the  garden,  and  the  bower, 
And  to  the  hive  at  evening  weary  come; 
For  man,  for  man,  the  luscious  food  I  pile 

With  busy  care, 
Content  if  he  repay  my  ceaseless  toil 
With  scanty  share." 

4.   "  Not  to  myself  alone^ 
The  soaring  bird  with  lusty  pinion  sings, 
"  Not  to  myself  alone  I  raise  my  song ; 
I  cheer  the  drooping  with  my  warbling  tongue. 
And  bear  the  mourner  on  my  viewless  wings ; 
I  bid  the  hymnless  churl  my  anthem  learn. 

And  God  adore ; 
I  call  the  worldling  from  his  dross  to  turn. 
And  sing  and  soar." 
11 


241 


i^42 


SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 


5.  ^'  Not  to  myself  alone ^"^ 

The  streamlet  whispers  on  its  pebbly  way, 
"  Not  to  myself  alone  I  sparkling  glide; 
t  I  scatter  health  and  life  on  every  side, 

And  strew  the  fields  with  herb  and  floweret  gay. 
I  sing  unto  the  common,  bleak  and  bare. 

My  gladsome  tune ; 
I  sweeten  and  refresh  the  languid  air 
In  drouthy  June." 

6.  "  Not  to  myself  alone  :"^ — 

0  man,  forget  not  thou, — earth's  honored  priest, 
Its  tongue,  its  soul,  its  life,  its  pulse,  its  heart, — 
In  earth's  great  chorus  to  sustain  thy  part ! 
Chiefest  of  guests  at  Love's  ungrudging  feast, 
Play  not  the  niggard ;  spurn  thy  native  clod. 

And  self  disown ; 
Live  to  thy  neighbor  ;  live  unto  thy  God ; 
Not  to  thyself  alone  ! 

Questions. — 1.  What  things  are  mentioned,  that  contribute  to  our  com- 
fort and  happiness  ?  2.  How  does  the  suffix  less,  afifect  the  meaning  of  tlie 
words  cease,  view,  hymn,  &q.  ?  3.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  suffixes  Itt 
and  et,  in  the  words  streamlet  and  floweret  ?  See  Sanders  &  McElligott's 
Analysis,  page  140,  Ex.  185  and  187. 


LESSON    LXIX. 


NuRs'iNG,  nourishing;  cherishing. 

Ab  hor',  detest ;  loathe. 

PtE  Li'  ED,  depended. 

Era  ter'  nal,  brotherly. 

Su  per'  nal,  heavenly. 

Com  bine',  unite ;  join  together. 

Re  bears'  al,  recital ;  repetition. 


Big'  OT  ry,  blind  zeal;  prejudice. 

Sheathe,  put  in  a  sheath. 

U  Ni  ver'  sal,  general. 

Cus'  TOM,  practice;  usage. 

Tal'  ent,  natural  ability. 

Af  fect'  ing,  making  false  show. 

Is'  0  late,  separate;  detach. 


NUMBER  FOUR.  •  943 


THE  WORLD  WOULD  BE  THE  BETTER  FOR  IT 

1.  If  men  cared  less  for  wealth  and  fame, 
And  less  for  battle-fields  and  glory, — 
If  writ  in  human  hearts  a  name 

Seemed  better  than  in  song  and  story, — 
If  men  instead  of  nursing  pride, 

Would  learn  to  hate  it  and  abhor  it, — 
If  more  relied 
On  love  to  guide, — 
The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 


2.  If  men  dealt  less  in  stocks  and  lands. 

And  more  in  bonds  and  deeds  fraternal, — 
If  Love's  work  had  more  willing  hands 
To  link  this  world  to  the  supernal, — 
If  men  stored  up  Love's  oil  and  wine. 

And  on  bruised,  human  hearts  would  pour  it,- 
If  '"'' yours'''  and  ''''mine!'' 
Would  once  combine, — 
The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 


3.  If  more  w^ould  act  the  play  of  Life, 
And  fewer  spoil  it  in  rehearsal, — 
If  Bigotry  would  sheathe  its  knife 

Till  Good  become  more  universal, — 
If  Custom,  gray  with  ages  grown. 
Had  fewer  blind  men  to  adore  it, — 
If  talent  shone 
In  Truth  alone, — 
The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 


244  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

4.  If  men  were  wise  in  little  things, 

Affecting  less  in  all  their  dealings, — 
If  hearts  had  fewer  rusted  strings 

To  isolate  their  kindly  feelings, — 
If  men  when  Wrong  beats  down  the  Right, 
Would  strike  together  and  restore  it, — 
If  Right  made  Might 
In  every  fight, — 
The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 

LESSON    LXX. 

In  reading  these  antithetic  sentences,  an  excellent  efifect  may  be  pro- 
duced by  dividing  the  class  equally  into  two  parts,  and  letting  one  part  read, 
in  concert,  the  line  marked  1st  Voice,  and  the  other  part,  the  line  marked 
2d  Voice ;  or,  one  pupil  may  read  one  line,  and  the  next  pupil  the  other, 
alternately. 

SELECT  PROYEKBS  OF  SOLOMON* 

1st  Voice.  A  wise  son  maketh  a  glad  father  ; 

2d   Voice,  hut  a  fooHsh  son  is  the  heaviness  of  his  mother. 

1  V,  Treasures  of  wickedness  profit  nothing; 

2  V.  hut  righteousness  delivereth  from  death. 

1  V.  He  becometh  poor,  that  dealeth  with  a  slack  hand  ; 

2  F.  but  the  hand  of  the  diligent  maketh  rich. 

1  V:  Blessings  are  upon  the  head  of  the  just ; 

2  V.  but  violence  covereth  the  mouth  of  the  wicked. 

1  F.  The  memory  of  the  just  is  blessed ; 

2  F.  but  the  name  of  the  wicked  shall  rot. 

1  F.  The  wise  in  heart  will  receive  commandment ; 

2  F.  but  a  prating  fool  shall  fall. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  945 

1  F".  He  tbat  walketh  uprightly,  walketh  surely ; 

2  V.  but  he  that  perverteth  his  ways,  shall  be  known. 

1  V.  Wise  men  lay  up  knowledge  ; 

2  V.  but  the  mouth  pf  the  wicked  is  near  destruction. 

1  V.  He  is  in  the  way  of  life,  that  keepeth  instruction ; 

2  V.  but  he  that  refuseth  reproof,  erreth. 

1  F.  It  is  as  sport  to  a  fool  to  do  mischief; 

2  V.  but  a  man  of  understanding  hath  wisdom. 

1  V.  The  fear  of  the  Lord  prolongeth  days ; 

2  V,  but  the  years  of  the  wicked  shall  be  shortened. 

1  V.  The  hoj)e  of  the  righteous  shall  be  gladness ; 

2  V.  but  the  expectation  of  the  wicked  shall  perish. 

1  V,  The  righteous  shall  never  be  removed  ; 

2  V.  but  the  wicked  shall  not  inhabit  the  earth. 

1  V.  The  mouth  of  the  just  bringeth  forth  wisdom  ; 

2  V.  but  the  fro  ward  tongue  shall  be  cut  out. 

1  F.  A  false  balance  is  an  abomination  to  the  Lord ; 

2  F.  but  a  just  weight  is  his  delight. 

1  F.  Riches  profit  not  in  the  day  of  wrath ; 

2  F.  but  righteousness  delivereth  from  death. 

1  F.  The  righteousness  of  the  perfect  shall  direct  his  way : 

2  F.  but  the  wicked  shall  fall  by  his  own  wickedness. 

1  F.  By  the  blessing  of  the  upright  the  city  is  exalted ; 

2  F.  but  it  is  overthrown  by  the  mouth  of  the  wicked. 

1  F.  Where  no  counsel  is,  the  people  fall ; 

2  F.  but  in  the  multitude  of  counselors  there  is  safety. 

1  F.  He  that  diligently  seeketh  good,  procureth  favor ; 

2  F.  but  he  that  seeketh  mischiei^  it  shall  come  unto  him. 

1  V.  The  righteous  man  regardeth  the  life  of  his  beast ; 

2  F.  but  the  tender  mercies  of  the  wicked  are  cruel. 


246  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

1  V.  The  lip  of  truth  shall  be  established  forever; 

2  V.  but  a  lying  tongue  is  but  for  a  moment. 

1  V.  Lying  lips  are  abomination  to  the  Lord  ; 

2  F.  but  they  that  deal  truly,  are  His  delight. 

1  F.  The  hand  of  the  diligent  shall  bear  rule  ; 

2  F.  but  the  slothful  shall  be  under  tribute. 

1  F.  A  wise  son  heareth  his  father's  instruction  ; 

2  F.  but  a  scorner  heareth  not  rebuke. 

1  F.  He  that  keepeth  his  mouth,  keepeth  his  life  ; 

2  F.  but  he  that  openeth  wide  his  lips,  shall  have  destruction. 

1.  F.  A  scorner  seeketh  wisdom,  and  findeth  it  not; 

2.  F.  but  knowledge  is  easy  unto  him  that  understandeth. 

1  F.  There  is  a  way  which  seemeth  right  unto  a  man  *, 

2  F.  but  the  end  thereof  are  the  ways  of  death. 

1  F.  A  wise  man  feareth,  and  departeth  from  evil  ; 

2  F.  but  the  fool  rageth,  and  is  confident. 

1  F.  The  poor  is  hated  even  of  his  neighbor  ; 

2  F.  but  the  rich  hath  many  friends. 

1  F.  He  that  oppresseth  the  poor,  reproacheth  his  Maker ; 

2  F.  but  he  that  honoreth  Him,  hath  mercy  on  the  poor. 

1  F.  He  that  is  slow  to  wrath,  is  of  great  understanding ; 

2  F.  but  he  that  is  hasty  in  spirit,  exalteth  folly. 

1^  F.  A  soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath  ; 
2  F.  but  grievous  words  stir  up  anger: 

1  F.  He  that  walketh  with  wise  men,  shall  be  wise ; 

2  F.  but  a  companion  of  fools  shall  be  destroyed. 

1  F.  Counsel  in  the  heart  of  man  is  like  deep  water; 

2  F.  but  a  man  of  understanding  will  draw  it  out. 

1  F.  The  wicked  is  driven  away  in  his  wickedness; 

2  F.  but  the  righteous  hath  hope  in  his  death. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  247 

LESSON     LXXI. 

IM  PRES'  SIGN,  idea;  notion.  I  Reg'  is  tl;r,  record;  note  down. 

At  trac'  tion$,  allureraunts.  j  Sua'  ges  tive,  giving  signs. 

Sa  ti'  e  ty,  excessive  fuJlaess.  I  Dec  la  ra'  tion,   announcement. 

Sat'  ed,  glutted ;  satiated.  ?  Ex  trem'  i  tie$,  ends. 

Pam'  per  ED,  over-fed.  \  Dra'  per  y,  hangings ;   decorations. 

Sue'  cu  LENT,  full  of  sap;  juicj.         I  En  chant' ment,  charms;  fascination. 
Um  bra'  geous,  shady.  j  Fret'  ted,  furnished  with  frets,  or 

Gor'  geous,  showy ;  brilliant.  \      ornamental  raised  work. 

Drear'  i  ness,  gloominess.  ?  Dec  o  ra'  tion$,  adornments. 

*  Ar'  a  besques,  is  a  word,  denoting  ornaments  after  the  Arabian  man- 
ner, often  intricate  and  fantastic,  from  the  intermingling  of  foliage,  fruits,  &C., 
with  other  objects  real  or  imaginary. 

WINTER    BEAUTY* 

Henry  Ward  Beechek. 

1.  It  is  the  impression  of  many,  that  only  in  summer, 
including  spring  and  autumn,  of  course,  is  the  country 
desirable  as  a  residence.  The  country  in  summer,  and  the 
city  for  the  winter.  It  is  true,  that  the  winter  gives  attrac- 
tions to  the  city,  in  endless  meetings,  lectures,  concerts,  and 
indoor  amusements  ;  but  it  is  not  true  that  the  country  loses 
all  interest  when  the  leaves  are  shed  and  the  grass  is  gone. 
On  the  contrary,  to  one  who  has  learned  how  to  use  his 
senses  and  his  sensibilities,  there  are  attractions  in  the  winter 
of  a  peculiar  kind,  and  pleasures  which  can  be  reaped  only 
then. 

2.  It  appears  to  me,  that  winter  comes  in  to  relieve  the 
year  of  satiety.  The  mind  grows  sated  with  greenness. 
After  eight  or  nine  months  of  luxuriant  growths,  the  eye 
grows  accustomed  to  vegetation.  To  be  sure,  we  never  are 
less  pleased  with  the  wide  prospect;  with  forms  of  noble 
trees,  with  towns  and  meadows,  and  with  the  whole  aspect 
of  nature.  But  it  is  the  pleasure  of  one  pampered.  We 
lose  the  keen  edge  of  hunger.     The  eye  enjoys,  without  the 


248  SANDJEKS'    UNION    SERIES. 

relish  of  newness.     We  expect  to  enjoy.     Every  thing  loses 
surprise. 

3.  Of  course,  the  sky  is  blue,  the  grass  succulent,  the 
fields  green,  the  trees  umbrageous,  the  clouds  silent  and 
mysterious.  They  were  so  yesterday,  they  are  so  to-day, 
they  will  be  so  to-morrow,  next  week,  next  month.  In 
short,  the  mind  does  not .  cease  to  feel  the  charm  of  endless 
growths  :  but  needs  variety,  change  of  diet,  less  of  perpetual 
feasting,  and  something  of  the  blessings  of  a  fast.  This 
winter  gives.  It  says  to  us  :  You  have  had  too  much.  You 
are  luxurious  and  dainty.  You  need  relief  and  change  of 
diet. 

4.  The  cold  blue  of  the  sky,  the  cold  gray  of  rocks,  the 
sober  warmth  of  browns  and  russets,  take  the  place  of  more 
gorgeous  colors.  If,  now,  one  will  accept  this  change  in  the 
tone  of  nature,  after  a-  time  a  new  and  relishful  pleasure 
arises.  The  month  formed  by  the  last  fortnight  of  Novem- 
ber and  the  first  two  weeks  of  December,  is,  to  me,  the  sad- 
dest of  the  year.  It  most  nearly  produces  the  sense  of 
desolateness  and  dreariness  of  any  portion  of  the  year. 

5.  From  the  hour  that  the  summer  begins  to  shorten  its 
days,  and  register  the  increasing  change  along  the  horizon, 
over  which  the  sun  sets,  farther  and  farther  toward  the 
south,  we  have  a  genial  and  gentle  sadness.  But  sadness 
belongs  to  all  very  deep  joys.  It  is  almost  as  needful  to  the 
perfectness  of  joy,  as  shadows  in  landscapes  are  to  the  charm 
of  the  picture.  Then,  too,  comes  the  fading«out  of  flowers, 
— each  variety  in  its  turn,  saying,  ' '  Farewell  till  next 
summer." 

6.  Scarcely  less  suggestive  of  departing  summer  are  the 
new-comers,  the  late  summer  golden-rod,  the  asters,  and  all 
autumnal  flowers.  Long  experience  teaches  us'  that  these 
are  the  latest  blossoms  that  fall  from  the  sun's  lap,  and  next 


NUMBER    FOUR.  249 

to  them  is  snow.  By  association  we  already  see  white  in  the 
yellow  and  blue.  Then,  too,  birds  are  thinking  of  other 
things.  No  more  nests,  no  more  young,  no  more  songs, — 
except  signal-notes  and  rallying-calls ;  for  they  are  evidently 
warned,  and  go  about  their  little  remaining  daily  business,  as 
persons  who  expect  every  hour  to  depart  to  a  distant  land. 

7.  It  is  scarcely  ever  that  we  see  the  birds  go.  They  are 
here  to-day,  and  gone  to-morrow.  They  disappear  without 
observation.  The  fields  are  empty  and  silent.  It  s6ems  as 
if  the  winds  had  blown  them  away  with  the  leaves.  The 
first  sight  of  northern  waterfowl,  far  up  in  the  air,  retreating 
from  Labrador  and  the  short,  Arctic  summer,  is  always  to  us 
like  the  declaration :  ' '  Summer  is  gone ;  winter  is  behind 
us  ;  it  will  soon  be  upon  you."  At  last  come  the  late  days 
of  November.  All  is  gone, — frosts  reap  and  glean  more 
sharply  every  night. 

8.  A  few  weeks  bring  earnest  winter.  Then  begin  to 
dawn  other  delights.  The  bracing  air,  the  clean  snow-paths, 
the  sled  and  sleigh,  the  revelation  of  forms  that  all  summer 
were  grass-hidden ;  the  sharp-outlined  hills  lying  clear  upon 
the  sky;  the  exquisite  tracery  of  trees. — especially  of  all 
such  trees  as  that  dendral  child  of  God,  the  elm,  whose 
branches  are  carried  out  into  an  endless  complexity  of  fine 
lines  of  spray,  and  which  stands  up  in  winter,  showing  in  its 
whole  anatomy,  that  all  its  summer  shade  was  founded  upon 
the  most  substantial  reality. 

9.  In  winter,  too,  particularly  in  the  latter  periods  of  it, 
the  extremities  of  shrubs  and  branches  begin  to  take  on 
ruddy  hues,  or  purplish  browns,  and  the  eye  knows  that 
these  are  the  first  faint  blushes  of  coming  summer.  Now, 
too,  we  find  how  beautiful  are  the  mosses  in  the  woods ;  and 
under  them  we  find  solitary  green  leaves,  that  have  laughed 
all  winter  because  they  had  outwitted  the  frost. 

11* 


250  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

10.  Wherever  flowing  springs  gush  from  sheltered  spots 
looking  south,  one  will  find  manj  green  edges,  young  grass, 
and  some  few  tougher  leaves.  Now,  too,  in  still  days,  the 
crow  sings  heavily  through  the  air,  cawing  with  a  pleasing 
harshness.  For  dieting  has  performed  its  work.  Your 
appetite  is  eager.  A  little  now  pleases  you  more  than 
abundance  did  in  August.  Every  tiny  leaf  is  to  you  like  a 
cedar  of  Lebanon. 

11.  All  these  things  are  unknown  to  dwellers  in  cities. 
It  is  nothing  to  them  that  a  robin  appeared  for  the  first  time 
yesterday  morning,  or  that  a  blue-bird  sang  over  against  the 
house.  Some  new  prima-donna^  exhausts  their  admiration. 
They  are  yet  studying  laces,  and  do  not  care  for  the  fringe 
of  swamps,  for  the  first  catkins  of  the  willow.  They  are  still 
coveting  the  stores  of  precious  stones  at  the  jewelers,  and  do 
not  care  for  my  ruby  buds,  and  red  dogwood,  and  scarlet 
winter -berries,  and  ground  pine,  and  partridge-berry  leaves. 

12.  There  is  one  sight  of  the  country,  at  about  this  time 
of  the  year — the  first  of  March — that  few  have  seen,  or  else 
they  have  passed  it  by  as  if  it  were  not  worthy  of  record. 
I  mean  the  drapery  of  rocks  in  gorges,  or  along  precipitous 
sides  of  hills  or  mountains.  The  seams  of  rocks  are  the  out- 
lets of  springs.  The  water,  trickling  through,  is  seized  by 
the  frost,  and  held  fast  in  white  enchantment.  Every  day 
adds  to  the  length  of  the  ice  drapery ;  and,  as  the  surface  is 
overlaid  by  new  issuings,  it  is  furred  and  fretted  with  silver- 
white  chasings,  the  most  exquisite. 

13.  Thus,  one  may  find  a  succession,  in  a  single  gorge,  of 
extraordinary  ice-curtains,  and  pendant  draperies,  of  varying 
lengths,  of  every  fantastic  form,  of  colors  varying  by  thick- 
ness, or  by  the  tinge  of  earth  or  rock  shining  through  them. 

*  The  first  female  singer  in  an  opera. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  251 

In  mj  boyhood,  I  used  to  wander  along  these  fairy  halls, 
imagining  them  to  be  now  altars  in  long,  white  draperies ; 
now,,  grand  cathedral  pillars  of  white  marble  ;  then,  long 
tapestries  chased  in  white,  with  arabesques^  and  crinkled 
vines  and  leaves. 

14.  Sometimes  they  seemed  like  gigantic  bridal  decora- 
tions, or  like  the  robes  of  beings  vast  and  high,  hung  in 
their  wardrobes  while  they  slept.  But,  whatever  fane}' 
interpreted  them,  or  whether  they  were  looked  upon  with 
two  good,  sober,  literal  eyes,  they  were,  and  still  are,  among 
the  most  delightful  of  winter  exhibitions,  to  those  who  are 
wise  enough  to  search  out  the  hidden  beauty  of  winter  in 
the  country. 

Questions. — 1.  What  are  some  of  the  attractions  of  winter  in  the  city  ? 
2.  What  are  some  of  the  delights  of  winter  in  the  country  ?  3.  What  is  said 
of  the  drapery  of  rocks  ?  4.  What  did  the  writer  imagine  them  to  be,  in 
boyhood? 

LESSON    LXXII. 

Un  sul'  LI  ET>,  pure ;  clear.  ">  In  ter  sect'  ing,  meeting  and  cross- 

Phe  nom'  e  NGN,  appearance.  j  Pen'  e  tra  ting,  piercing.         [ing. 

Trans  par'  en  cy,  clearness.  j  E'  ther,  thin  or  refined  air. 

As  ton'  ish  ing,  amazing,    [ing  out.     Con  geal'  ed,  frozen. 

Ram  I  Fi  ca'  tion,  branch,  or  branch-  ^  Burn'  ish  ing,  brightening. 

In  de  scrib'  a  bly,  beyond  descrip- 1  En  gen'  der  ed,  produced. 

Ma  jes'  tic,  grand.  [tion.  ^  Em'  blem,  symbol. 

Oc  ca'  sign  al,  occurring  at  times,     j  Con  tem  pla'  tign,  meditation. 

Im  press'  ive,  powerful ;  effective,     'i  El  e  va'  tign,  loftiness. 

FROSTED    TREES. 

1.  "Ere  yet  the  clouds  let  fall  the  treasured  snow, 
Or  winds  begun  their  hazy  skies  to  blow, 
At  evening,  a  keen  eastern  breeze  arose, 
And  the  descending  rain  unsullied  froze. 


252  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Soon  as  the  silent  shades  of  night  withdrew, 

The  ruddy  morn  disclosed  at  once  to  view 

The  face  of  Nature  in  a  rich  disguise, 

And  brightened  every  object  to  my  eyes. 

For  every  shrub,  and  every  blade  of  grass, 

And  every  pointed  thorn,  seemed  wrought  in  glass." 

2.  Since  Sunday,  Feb.  1st,  1852,  we  have  had  presented 
to  our  view,  the  beautiful  phenomenon  of  Frosted  Trees, 
the  most  astonishing  and  brilliant  that  I  ever  remember  to 
have  noticed.  The  previous  storm  and  mist  had  thickly- 
covered  every  exposed  object, — the  loftiest  trees,  the  mi- 
nutest blade,  hill  and  dale,  with  the  icy  garment.  This 
transparency  was  most  perfect,  dejQning  every  form  and 
ramification  into  exact  models  of  the  entire  body,  branch, 
or  limb. 

3.  Dwellings  and  barns  were  incrusted  by  the  chilling 
vapor.  It  hung  upon  the  manes  of  the  cattle,  and  decorated, 
wherever  seen,  the  humble  grass,  which  appeared  bending, 
like  threads  of  crystal.  The  small  bushes  were  indescrib- 
ably beautiful,  and  seemed  as  if  chiseled  out  of  the  whitest 
marble.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  extend,  over  brooks, 
fields,  and  woods,  the  same  striking  and  singular  sight  was 
universal. 

4.  I  could  not  remain  contented  in  the  house,  and  toward 
sunset,  hastened  away,  where  the  view  might  be  free  and 
^uninterrupted.  Here,  the  scene,  if  possible,  was  more  im- 
pressive and  interesting.  There  was  scarcely  a  breath  of 
air,  and  the  general  silence  was  only  interrupted  by  the 
occasional  flight  of  some  winter  bird,  which  alighting  on  a 
limb,  would  shake  down  a  thousand  feathery  showers,  until 
he  seemed  frightened  at  the  unusual  sound.  The  forest  trees 
made  a  truly  majestic  appearance,  with  their  naked,  giant 


NUMBER    FOUR.  253 

arms  and  mossy  branches  intersecting  each  other,  and  fast 
bound  by  the  frozen  barriers. 

5.  I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  brilliancy  of  the  un- 
dergrowth and  dwarf  trees,  upon  whose  limbs  hung  a  delicate 
frosting,  like  unwrought  silver,  nor  the  crimson  glow  of  the 
holly-berries  through  their  transparent  and  icy  covering, — 
all,  all  was  a  dazzling  and  splendid  winter  array, 

"  That  buries  wide  the  works  of  man." 

It  brought  to  my  mind  some  of  the  Eastern  fairy  tales,  and 
their  gardens  ornamented  with  shrubs  and  plants  of  spark- 
ling crystals. 

6.  The  exposed  sides  of  the  rocks  and  fences  were  com- 
pletely iced  over,  not  the  smallest  particle  escaping  the  pen- 
etrating and  congealed  ether.  It  was  truly  astonishing  to 
examine  its  thickness.  On  some  twigs,  not  larger  than  a 
wheat  straw,  the  ice  measured  half  an  inch  through.  One 
would  scarcely  imagine  what  an  immense  weight  of  the  frozen 
mass  a  tree  will  sustain,  before  it  breaks  under  the  unusual 
load.  Many  branches  were  bent  so  low  that  I  could  reach 
them  with  my  hands  ;  and,  shaking  off  their  frosted  barks, 
they  would  instantly  spring  far  above  my  reach.  Every 
now  and  then  I  was  startled  by  the  rattling  noise  of  these 
falling  icicles  from  some  neighboring  tree  or  grove. 

7.  Just  when  the  sun  went  down,  there  was  not  a  single 
cloud  to  be  seen  in  the  horizon,  and  his  cold,  bright,  setting 
rays  brought  out,  on  every  hand,  frozen  gems,  diamonds, 
rubies,  and  sapphires,  in  every  possible  prismatic  beauty, 
wherever  his  departing  beams  fell.  Presently  the  moon 
bathed  the  whitened  earth,  and  every  congealed  drop,  in  her 
soft  light,  burnishing,  with  dazzling  icy  brilliancy,  trees, 
dwellings,  and  streams.  I  am  an  ardent  lover  of  Nature 
and  her  scenery,  and  have  often,  delighted,  gazed  upon  the 


254  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Queen  of  Night;  but  never  did  I  behold  such  a  brilliant 
moonlight  night  as  this. 

8.  Who  could  help  bringing  to  mind  the  sublimities  of 
Job  and  of  David, — "The  hoary  frost  of  heaven,  who  hath 
engendered  it?  The  waters  are  hid,  as  with  a  stone,  and  the 
face  of  the  deep  is  frozen." — "  By  the  breath  of  the  Mighty 
God,  ice  is  produced,  and  the  waters  which  were  spread  on 
all  sides,  are  held  in  chains."  The  Psalmist  says,  "He 
giveth  the  snow,  like  wool,  He  scattereth  the  hoar-frost  like 
ashes.  Wash  me,  and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  snow." — Well 
may  poets  look  to  the  falling  sno^Pifc-flake  for  their  images  of 
purity  and  innocence,  ere  it  receives  the  stain  of  earth.  I 
know  of  no  fitter  emblem. 

9.  Such  a  winter's  night !  and  the  skies  !  the  skies  !  So 
resplendent  in  brightness  are  the  hosts  of  heaven  at  this 
moment,  that  they  should  be  contemplated  by  every  lover 
and  student  of  the  works  of  God.  Their  numbers  who  can 
count, — their  twinkling  beauty  who  can  describe,  as  onward 
they  roll  in  the  deep  blue  of  midnight  ?  In  their  contem- 
plation are  inspired  "  thoughts  that  wander  through  eternity," 
with  an  elevation  of  feeling,  as  if  we  were  separated  from  the 
toils  and  tumults  of  earth,  and  exalted  into  a  higher  state  of 
being  than  that  in  which  we  toiled  through  the  day!  These 
heavens  tell  us  of  a  Wisdom  and  Power  we  can  not  search 
or  estimate.  There  we  seem  to  stand  more  immediately  in 
the  vailed  presence  of  the  Infinite  Majesty,  who  "laid  the 
foundations  of  the  earth,  when  the  morning  stars  sang 
together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy." 

Questions. — 1.  Describe  the  appearance  of  frosted  trees.  2.  What  is 
said  of  the  appearance  of  shrubs,  bushes,  &c.  ?  3.  What,  of  the  weight  sus- 
tained by  a  single  tree  ?  4.  What  was  the  appearance  at  sunset  ?  5.  What 
passages  of  Scripture  did  the  scene  bring  to  mind  ?  6.  Of  what  is  the  snow- 
flake  an  emblem?     1.  What  is  said  of  the  skies? 


NUMBER    FOUR.  265 


LESSON   LXXIII. 


Splen'  dor,  brightness ;  glory.  (  LoNa'  ed,  earnestly  desired. 

E  ter'  nal  ly,  everlastingly.  ?  Re  po$e',  rest;  quietude. 
Way'-wea  ry,  tired ;  fatigued.  Ran'  som  ed,  redeemed. 

Gaze,  eager  look.  <  Pal'  ace,  mansion ;  abode. 

Ev'  ER  GREEN,  always  green.  \  Un  ceas'  iNa  ly,  constantly. 


THE    MOUNTAINS    OF    LIFE* 

James  G.  Clark. 

1.  There's  a  land  far  away,  'mid  the  stars,  we  are  told, 

Where  they  know  not  the  sorrows  of  time, — 
Where  the  pure  waters  wander  through  valleys  of  gold. 

And  life  is  a  treasure  suhlime ; 
'Tis  the  land  of  our  God,  'tis  the  home  of  the  soul, 
Where  the  ages  of  splendor  eternally  roll, — 
Where  the  way-weary  traveler  reaches  his  goal, 

On  the  evergreen  Mountains  of  Life. 

2.  Our  gaze  can  not  soar  to  that  beautiful  land, 

But  our  visions  have  told  of  its  bliss  ; 
And  our  souls  by  the  gale  from  its  gardens  are  fanned, 

When  we  faint  in  the  desert  of  this ; 
And  we  sometimes  have  longed  for  its  holy  repose. 
When  our  spirits  were  torn  with  temptations  and  woes, 
And  we've  drank  from  the  tide  of  the  river  that  flows 

From  the  evergreen  Mountains  of  Life. 

3.  Oh  !  the  stars  never  tread  the  blue  heavens  at  night. 

But  we  think  where  the  ransomed  have  trod ; 
And  the  day  never  smiles  from  his  palace  of  light, 
But  we  feel  the  bright  smile  of  our  God. 


256  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

We  are  traveling  homeward,  through  changes  and  gloom, 
To  a  kingdom  where  pleasures  unceasingly  bloom, 
And  our  guide  is  the  glory  that  shines  through  the  tomb, 
From  the  evergreen  Mountains  of  Life. 

Questions.—!.  What  is  said  of  that  land  far  away  ?     2.  How  do  we 
know  there  is  such  a  land ?     3.  Of  what  do  the  stars  remind  us? 


LESSON    LXXIV. 

Im  ag'  in  a  ry,  not  real.  j  In  vi$'  i  ble,  unseen. 

An  tic'  I  PATE,  take  beforehand.  \  En  chain',  bind ;  fasten. 

Pre  fer'  red,  chosen.  |  Fore  bod'  ing,  dread  of  evil. 

Oc  cur'  red,  happened.  i  In  yen'  tion,  contrivance. 

Sus  tain',  support ;  uphold.  |  Con  fer'  red,  bestowed. 

Permit',  allow.  \  Ap  pre  hen' sign,  dread;  fear. 

IMAGINARY    EVILS* 

Eliza  Cook. 

1.  Let  to-morrow  take  care  of  to-morrow  ; 

Leave  things  of  the  future  to  fate ; 
What's  the  use  to  anticipate  sorrow  ? 

Life's  troubles  come  never  too  late. 
If  to  hope  overmuch  be  an  error, 

'Tis  one  the  wise  have  preferred; 
And  how  often  have  hearts  been  in  terror 

Of  evils  that  never  occurred ! 

2.  Have  faith,  and  thy  faith  shall  sustain  thee, 

Permit  not  suspicion  and  care 
With  invisible  bonds  to  enchain  thee, 
But  bear  what  God  gives  thee  to  bear. 


J 


NUMBER    FOUR.  25T 

By  His  Spirit  supported  and  gladdened 

Be  ne'er  by  forebodings  deterred  ; 
But  think  how  oft  hearts  have  been  saddened 

By  fears  of  what  never  occurred  1 

3.  Let  to-morrow  take  care  of  to-morrow ; 

Short  and  dark  as  our  life  may  appear, 
We  may  make  it  still  darker  by  sorrow, 

Still  shorter  by  folly  and  fear ; 
Half  cur  troubles  are  half  our  invention, 

And  often  from  blessing  conferred, 
Have  we  sunk  in  the  wild  apprehension 

Of  evils  that  never  occurred ! 

Questions. — 1.  What  is  said  of  imaginary  evils?  2.  How  may  we  be 
supported  under  trials  ?  3.  What  tends  to  shorten  life  ?  4.  Whence  pro- 
ceed half  our  troubles  ?  5.  What  rule  for  doublmg  the  r  and  d  in  such 
words  as  occurred,  saddened,  &c.  ?  See  Sanders'  New  Speller,  page  168, 
Rule  IIo 


LESSON    LXXV. 

Waste,  desolate  region.  (  Ray,  make  bright ;  adorn. 

Pro  ceed',  come  forth.  \  Ex  pand',  swell ;  dilate.  . 

Cha$m,  gap ;  opening.  \  Fa'  ther  land,  native  land. 

CoiL$,  folds  J  convolutions.  >  Guer'  don,  reward  ;  recompense, 

Man' I  fest,  plain;  evident.  \  Prop' per,  offer;  tender. 

Pre  $erv'  er,   protector.  \  Pit'  e  ous,  mournful ;  sorrowful. 

Al  le'  gi  ance,  duty ;  loyalty.  ^  Im  pet'  u  ous  ly,  furiously. 

At  tract'j  (at,  to;  tract,  draw)  draw  to;  allure. 

In  VEST',  (in,  to ;  vest,  clothe ;)  clothe  in  or  with ;  inclose ;  surround. 

Pro  test',  (pro,  lefore ;  test,  witness ;)  witness  before ;  openly  declare. 

1  py'  thon  is  the  name  of  a  large  serpent,  fabled  to  have  been  slain  by 
the  god  Apollo, 


258  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

SIR  WALTER  AND   THE  LION* 

A.  Walchner. 

1.  Sir  Walter  of  Thurn,  over  the  Syrian  waste, 

Rides  awaj  with  a  flowing  rein  ; 
But  he  hears  a  groan  that  checks  his  haste, 
As  if  death  were  in  the  strain. 

He  spurs  his  steed 

"Whence  the  sounds  proceed ; 
And  there,  from  a  rocky  chasm,  arise 
Fierce  cries  of  pain,  that  assail  the  skies ; 

And  his  horse  uprears 

In  excess  of  fears, 
As  the  glance  of  a  lion  attracts  his  eyes. 

2.  Fierce  struggling  there  in  the  monster  folds 

Of  a  serpent  that  round  him  twines ; 
Sir  Walter  a  moment  the  scene  beholds, 
Then  to  save  the  beast  inclines. 

His  good  sword  stout 

From  its  sheath  leaps  out, 
When  down  it  falls  on  the  Python's^  crest. 
And  cleaves  the  coils  that  the  lion  invest ; 

And  the  noble  beast, 

From  its  thrall  released. 
Shows  grateful  joy  most  manifest. 

8.  He  shakes  his  mane,  and  bends  his  form. 
And  licks  his  preserver's  hand, 
As  if  he  yields  allegiance  warm 
To  his  supreme  command; 

Like  the  faithful  hound 
To  be  constant  found, 


NUMBER    FOUR.  259 

And  follow  his  steps  forevermore ; 
And  thus  he  follows,  on  sea  and  shore, 

In  the  battle's  tide. 

He  stands  bj  his  side, 
Or  with  him  rests  when  the  strife  is  o'er. 


4.  In  Palestine  Sir  Walter  is  known, — 

Long  years  attest  his  fame  ; 
And  many  brave  deeds  he  there  hath  done, 
That  ray  with  glory  his  name ; 

But  his  heart  doth  expand 

For  the  fatherland, 
And  he  fain  its  pleasant  scenes  would  see, 
With  his  friendly  lion  for  company ; 

But  with  fearful  breast, 

The  sailors  protest. 
As  they  glanced  at  the  beast  and  his  majesty. 

5.  Rich  guerdon  he  proffers,  and  golden  store ; 

But  though  the  prize  were  great. 
The  sailors  hurry  away  from  the  shore 
As  if  from  the  doom  of  fate. 

The  poor  beast  moans 

In  piteous  tones, 
Then  darts  impetuously  o'er  the  sands, — 
Then  looks  to  the  ship,  and  mournfully  stands. 
Then  plunges  into  the  gloomy  wave, 
The  perils  of  the  depths  to  brave. 
Already  he  nears  the  flying  bark, 
Already  his  roar  of  grief  they  hark ; 
But  his  strength  is  spent,  and  the  sea  is  strong. 
And  he  may  not  the  fearful  struggle  prolong. 


260 


SANDERS'    UNION    SEllXES. 


His  dying  glances  are  fondly  cast 

Along  the  track  where  the  loved  one  passed; 

Then  sinks  to  his  grave 

Beneath  the  wave, 
And  the  night  and  the  ocean  behold  him  the  last. 

Questions. — 1.  What  did  Sir  Walter  discover  as  he  was  riding  over  the 
Syrian  waste  ?  2.  What  did  he  do  ?  3.  What  did  the  lion  do,  after  being 
released  ?  4.  Did  the  sailors  allow  the  lion  to  go  on  board  the  ship  ?  5. 
What  did  the  lion  then  do  ?     6.  What  became  of  him  ? 


LESSON    LXXVI. 


Yal'  iant,  strong ;  courageous. 
In  cli  na'  tion,  desire ;  tendency. 
Ee  plen'  ish  ED,  filled  up. 
Dis  SEv'  ER,  part ;  sunder. 
Shiv'  er,  dash  to  pieces. 
Ec  stat''io,  rapturous. 
Con  clu'  sion,  result. 
Con  cep'  tion,  thought ;  idea. 


Def'  er  ence,  respect. 

Phy$'  10  al,  material 

Ar'  rant,  mere ;  vile. 

Time'-ban  di  ED,  time-lost. 

De  vel'  op  ED,  brought  out. 

Con  stel  la'  tion$,  clusters  of  stars. 

De  sign'  ed,  planned. 


Com  bin'  ed,  united. 
Un  inter  rupt'  ed,  (un,  not;  inter,  in  between;  rupted,  broken;)  not 
broken  in  between ;  unbroken. 

It  is  sometimes  desirable  to  have  each  member  of  the  class  read  a  piece 
compiete  in  itself.  To  answer  this  end,  the  following  collection  of  brief, 
though  beautiful  productions,  have  been  brought  together  all  under  one 
head. 

CHOICE    EXTRACTS. 


WHAT    EEALLT    BENEFITS    US. 

It  is  not  what  we  earn,  but  what  we  save,  that  makes  us 
rich.  It  is  not  what  we  eat,  but  what  we  digest,  that  makes 
us  strong.     It  is  not  what  we  read,  but  what  we  remember, 


NUMBER    FOUR.  261 

that  makes  us  learned.  It  is  not  what  we  intend,  but  what 
we  do,  that  makes  us  useful.  It  is  not  a  few  faint  wishes, 
but  a  life-long  struggle,  that  makes  us  valiant. 

II. 
GOD'S    LOYE 

There's  not  a  flower  that  decks  the  vale, 

There's  not  a  beam  that  lights  the  mountain, 
There's  not  a  shrub  that  scents  the  gale, 

There's  not  a  wind  that  stirs  the  fountain, 
There's  not  a  hue  that  paints  the  rose. 

There's  not  a  leaf  around  us  lying. 
But  in  its  use  or  beauty  shows 

God's  love  to  us,  and  love  undying  ! 

III. 
LIFE-WORK. 
To  acquire  a  thorough  knowledge  of  our  own  hearts  and 
characters,,  to  restrain  every  irregular  inclination,  to  subdue 
every  rebellious  passion,  to  purify  the  motives  of  our  con- 
duct, to  form  ourselves  to  that  temperance  which  no  pleasure 
can  seduce,  to  that  meekness  which  no  provocation  can  ruffle, 
to  that  patience  which  no  affliction  can  overwhelm,  and  that 
integrity  which  no  interest  can  shake;  this  is  the  task 
lohich  is  assigned  to  tis, — a  task  which  can  not  be  per- 
formed without  the  utmost  diligence  and  care. 

IV. 

HUMILITY. 

The  brightest  stars  are  burning  suns  ; 
The  deepest  water  stillest  runs  ; 
The  laden  bee  the  lowest  flies ; 
The  richest  mine  the  deepest  lies ; 


262  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIJBS. 

The  stalk  that's  most  replenished, 
Doth  bow  the  most  its  modest  head. 
Thus,  deep  Humility  we  find 
The  mark  of  every  master-mind ; 
The  highest-gifted  lowliest  bends, 
And  merit  meekest  condescends. 
And  shuns  the  fame  that  fools  adore, — 
That  puff  that  bids  a  feather  soar. 

V. 

BENEFITS    OF    ADYEESITY. 

A  smooth  sea  never  made  a  skillful  mariner.  Neither  do 
uninterrupted  prosperity  and  success  qualify  man  for  useful- 
ness or  happiness.  The  storms  of  adversity,  like  the  storms 
of  the  ocean,  rouse  the  faculties  and  excite  the  invention, 
prudence,  skill,  and  fortitude  of  the  voyager. 

VI. 

OUR    MOUNTAIN    HOMES. 

Mrs.  S.  R.  A.  Babnm. 

Why  turn  we  to  our  mountain,  homes 

With  more  than  filial  feeling  ? 
'Tis  here  that  Freedom's  altars  rise, 

And  Freedom's  sons  are  kneeling  ' 
Why  sigh  we  not  for  softer  climes  ? 

Why  cling  to  that  which  bore  us  ? 
'  Tis  here  we  tread  on  Freedom's  soil^ 

With  Freedom'' s  sunshine  o'er  us  I 

VII. 

MAKE    A    BEGINNINa. 

If  you  do  not  begin,  you  will  never  come  to  the  end.  The 
first  weed  pulled  up  in  the  garden,  the  first  seed  set  in  the 


NUMBER    FOUR.  263 

ground,  the  first  dollar  put  in  the  savings-bank,  and  the  first 
mile  traveled  on  a  journey,  are  all  important  things ;  they 
make  a  beginning^  and  thereby  give  a  hope,  a  promise,  a' 
pledge,  an  assurance  that  you  are  in  earnest  in  what  you 
have  undertaken.  How  many  a  poor,  idle,  erring,  hesi- 
tating outcast  is  now  creeping  his  way  through  the  world, 
who  might  have  held  up  his  head  and  prospered,  if,  instead 
of  putting  ofi"  his  resolutions  of  amendment  and  industry,  he 
had  only  made  a  beginning  ! 

•       VIII. 

INFLUENCE. 

George  W,  BiXiJGAT. 

1.  Drop  follows  drop,  and  swells 

With  rain  the  sweeping  river; 
Word  follows  word,  and  tells 
A  truth  that  lives  forever. 

2.  Flake  follows  flake,  like  sprites 

Whose  wings  the  winds  dissever  ; 
Thought  follows  thought,  and  lights 
The  realm  of  mind  forever. 

3.  Beam  follows  beam  to  cheer, 

The  cloud  a  bolt  to  shiver ; 
Throb  follows  throb,  and  fear 
Gives  place  to  joy  forever. 

4.  The  drop,  the  flake,  the  beam, 

Teach  us  a  lesson  ever ; 
The  word,  the  thought,  the  dream, 
Impress  the  soul  forever. 


264  SANDERS'    UNION    SEKIiiS. 

IX. 

'      PLEASURE    IN    ACQUIRINa    KNOWLEDGE. 

Cakoline  F.  Orne. 

1.  Note  the  ecstatic  joj  of  the  student,  who  has  labored 
long  over  a  problem  or  proposition,  but  finally  comes  to  a 
logical  conclusion  ;  who  has  struggled  with  the  misty  dark- 
ness of  his  own  mind,  for  a  clear  view  of  some  difficult  sub- 
ject, until  the  clouds,  one  after  another,  have  dispersed,  and 
he  beholds,  with  his  mental  vision,  in  bright  and  glorious 
light,  the  conception  for  which  he  labored.  Think  you  he 
would  exchange  his  joys  for  the  pleasures  of  sense'  ?  It  is 
of  a  higher  and  more  ennobling  character,  and  not  to  be  bar- 
tered for  paltry  wealth. 

2.  What  dignity  and  self-respect  invest  the  man  of 
thought !  His  very  looks  bespeak  of  mind.  He  is  ap- 
proached with  deference,  as  a  being  of  higher  order  in  the 
scale  of  intelligence, — as  one  who  has  a  right  to  command 
and  be  obeyed.  For  what  moves  mind,  but  mind?  A 
strong  intellect,  coming  in  contact  with  one  of  less  energy, 
will  as  naturally  move  it,  as  superior  physical  strength  will 
overcome  the  weaker,. 


WHAT    IS    FAME? 

What  is  glory'  ?     What  is  fame'? 
The  echo  of  a  long-lost  name'  ; 
A  breath',  an  idle  hour's  brief  talk'; 
The  shadow  of  an  arrant  naught' ; 
A  flower  that  blossoms  for  a  day^, 

Dying  next  morrow' ; 
A  stream  that  hurries  on  its  way. 

Singing  of  sorrow' ; 


Motherwell. 


MurkibER  FOUR.  265 

A  fortune  that  to  lose  were  gain^ ; 
A  word  of  praise  perchance  of  blame^ ; 
The  wreck  of  a  time-bandied  name\ — 
j4y\  this  is  glory""  I — this  is  fame" ! 


XI. 

CULTIVATED    INTELLECT. 

Ah !  well  do  we  all  know  the  worth  of  intelligence,  the 
power  of  knowledge,  and  the  beauty  and  glory  of  wisdom. 
It  is  educated  manhood  that  wakes  up  the  sleeping  soil, 
covers  the  earth  with  good,  that  gathers  in  the  golden  har- 
vest, that  clothes  the  naked,  that  feeds  the  hungry.  It  is 
the  cultivated  mind  that  applies  the  strength  of  the  ox  and 
the  fleetness  of  the  horse ;  that  bridges  the  river,  that  turns 
to  use  the  flying  winds,  that  makes  the  lightning  its  swift 
messenger,  that  makes  beautiful  palaces  of  dull  clay,  that 
rouses  the  dead  ore  to  active  life,  that  covers  the  sea  with 
ships,  and  the  land  with  mighty  engines  of  wealth.  It  is 
the  developed  intellect  that  flies  through  the  upper  air,  that 
mingles  with  the  stars,  that  follows  the  moon  in  her  course, 
that  overtakes  the  constellations  in  their  orbits,  that  weighs 
the  sun,  that  measures  the  distance  to  the  polar  star.  It  is 
the  enlightened  soul  that  worships  God. 


XII. 


aOD'S    WORKS    ATTEST    HIS     GREATNESS. 

Mks.  Opib. 

1.  There's  not  a  leaf  within  the  bower  ; 
There's  not  a  bird  upon  the  tree  ; 
There's  not  a  dew-drop  on  the  flower  ; 
But  bears  the  impress,  Lord,  of  Thee. 


4  U 


266  SANDERS'    UIVION    SERIES. 

2.  Thj  hand  the  varied  leaf  designed, 

And  gave  the  bird  its  thrilling  tone  ; 
Thy  power  the  dewdrop's  tints  combined, 
Till  like  the  diamond's  blaze  thej  shone. 

8.  Yes,  dewdropSj  leaves,  and  buds,  and  all 
The  smallest,  like  the  greatest  things, — 
The  sea's  vast  space,  the  earth's  wide  ball, 
Alike  proclaim  Thee  King  of  kings. 

4.  But  man  alone  to  bounteous  Heaven, 

Thanksgiving's  conscious  strains  can  raise ; 
To  favored  man  alone  'tis  given 

To  join  the  angelic  choir  in  praise  1 

LESSON    LXXVII. 

Mo  not'  0  NOUS,  dull ;  uniform.         (  Frig'  tign,  rubbing  together. 
Har  poon',  barbed  spear.  ]  Coil$,  winds  into  a  ring. 

Ag'  I  TA  TED,  disturbed.  j  Prg  jegt'  ed,  thrown  out  or  forward. 

Re ver' BERATES,  rebounds ;  reechoes.j  Vo  cif'er  a  ted,  shouted. 
■WRiTHE$,  twists,  or  turns  in  agony,    j  In  fu'  ri  a  ted,  enraged. 
Con  tor'  tion$,  twistings  j  writhings.  j  Un  re  lent'  ing,  unfeeling. 
Ye  log'  I  TY,  swiftness.  i  Con  vul'  sion$,  violent  spasms. 

Ig  nites',  takes  fire.  ]  Ren  coun'  ter,  fight ;  conflict. 

CAPTURE    OF    THE    WHALE* 

1.  Let  the  reader  suppose  himself  on  the  deck  of  a  South- 
seaman,  cruising  in  the  North  Pacific  ocean.  He  may  be 
musing  over  some  past  event,  the  ship  may  be  sailing  gently 
along  over  the  smooth  ocean,  every  thing  around  solemnly 
still,  with  the  sun  pouring  its  intense  rays  with  dazzling 


NUMBER    FOUR  267 

brightness.  Suddenly  the  monotonous  quietude  is  broken 
by  an  animated  voice  from  the  masthead,  exclaiming, 
"  There  he  spouts  /" 

2.  The  captain  starts  on  deck  in  an  instant,  and  inquires 
''  Whei^e  aicay  ?"  but,  perhaps,  the  next  moment  every  one 
aloft  and  on  deck,  can  perceive  an  enormous  whale  lying 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  ship,  on  the  surface  of 
the  sea,  having  just  come  up  to  breathe,— his  large  '^  Lump" 
projecting  three  feet  out  of  the  water.  At  the  end  of  every 
ten  seconds,  the  spout  is  seen  rushing  from  the  fore  part  of 
his  enormous  head,  followed  by  the  cry  of  every  one  on 
board,  who  join  in  the  chorus  of  '■''There  again  T^  keeping 
time  with  the  duration  of  the  spout. 

3.  But,  while  they  have  been  looking,  a  few  seconds  have 
expired.  They  rush  into  the  boats,  which  are  directly  low- 
ered to  receive  them ;  and,  in  two  minutes  from  the  time  of 
first  observing  the  whale,  three  or  four  boats  are  down,  and 
are  darting  through  the  water  with  their  utmost  speed 
toward  their  intended  victim,  perhaps  accompanied  with  a 
song  from  the  headsman,  who  urges  the  quick  and  powerful 
plying  of  the  oar,  with  the  common  whaling  chant  of 

"  Away,  my  boys,  away,  my  boys,  'tis  time  for  us  to  go." 

4.  But,  while  they  are  rushing  along,  the  whale  is  breath- 
ing; they  have  yet,  perhaps,  some  distance  to  pull  before 
they  can  get  a  chance  of  striking  him  with  the  harpoon. 
His  "  spoutings  are  nearly  out,"  he  is  about  to  descend,  or 
he  hears  the  boats  approaching.  The  few  sailors  left  on 
board,  and  who  are  anxiously  watching  the  whale  and  the 
gradual  approach  of  the  boats,  exclaim,  "  ^/t,  he  is  going 
dovm .'"  Yet  he  spouts  again,  but  slowly ,  the  water  is  seen 
agitated  around  him ;  the  spectators  on  board  with  breathless 
anxiety  think  they  perceive  him   rising  m  preparation  for 


258  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

his  descent.  ^^He  will  be  lostP''  they  exclaim;  for  the  boats 
are  not  jet  near  enough  to  strike  him,  and  the  men  are  still 
bending  their  oars  in  each  boat  with  all  their  strength,  to 
claim  the  honor  of  the  first  blow  with  the  harpoon. 

5.  The  bow- boat  has  the  advantage  of  being  the  nearest 
to  the  whale ;  the  others,  for  fear  of  disturbing  the  uncon- 
scious monster,  are  now  ordered  to  drop  astern.  One  more 
spout  is  seen  slowly  curling  forth, — it  is  his  last;  but  the 
boat  shoots  rapidly  alongside  of  the  gigantic  creature. 
^^  Peak  your  oars  P^  exclaims  the  mate,  and  directly  they 
flourish  in  the  air ;  the  glistening  harpoon  is  seen  above  the 
head  of  the  harpooner.  In  an  instant  it  is  darted  with  un- 
erring force  and  aim,  and  is  buried  deeply  in  the  side  of  the 
huge  animal.  It  is  '^  socket  up  ]"  that  is,  it  is  buried  in  his 
flesh  up  to  the  socket  which  admits  the  handle  or  pole  of  the 
harpoon. 

6.  A  cheer  from  those  in  the  boats,  and  from  the  seamen 
on  board,  reverberates  along  the  still  deep  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. The  sea,  which  a  moment  before  was  unruffled,  now 
becomes  lashed  into  foam  by  the  immense  strength  of  the 
wounded  whale,  which,  with  his  vast  tail,  strikes  in  all  direc- 
tions at  his  enemies.  Now  his  enormous  head  rises  high  into 
the  air,  then  his  flukes  are  seen  lashing  everywhere,  his  huge 
body  writhes  in  violent  contortions  from  the  agony  the  har- 
poon has  inflicted.  The  water  all  around  him  is  a  mass  of 
foam,  and  the  sounds  of  the  blows  from  his  tail  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  sea,  can  be  heard  for  miles  ! 

7.  '^  Steim  alir  cries  the  headsman;  but  the  whale  sud- 
denly disappears ;  he  has  "sounded;"  the  line  is  running 
through  the  groove  at  the  head  of  the  boat,  with  lightening- 
like  velocity ;  it  smokes ;  it  ignites  from  the  heat  produced 
by  the  friction ;  but  the  headsman,  cool  and  collected,  pours 
water  upon  it  as  it  passes.     But  an  oar  is  now  held  up  in 


NUMBER    FOUR,  269 

their  boat ;  it  signifies  that  their  line  is  rapidly  running  out ; 
two  hundred  fathoms  are  nearly  exhausted;  up  flies  one  of 
the  other  boats,  and  "  bends  on"  another  line,  just  in  time 
to  save  that  which  was  nearly  lost. 

8.  But  still  the  monster  descends ;  he  is  seeking  to  rid 
himself  of  his  enemies  by  descending  deeply  into  the  dark 
and  unknown  depths  of  the  vast  ocean.  Two  more  lines  are 
exhausted, — he  is  six  hundred  fathoms  deep!  ^^  Stand 
ready  to  bend  onP''  cries  the  mate  to  the  fourth  boat;  (for 
sometimes  they  take  the  whole  four  lines  away  with  them, — 
eight  hundred  fathoms  I!)  but,  it  is  not  required,  he  is 
rising.  "  Haul  ifi  the  slack  T^  observes  the  headsman, 
while  the  boat-steerer  coils  it  again  carefully  into  the  tubs  as 
it  is  drawn  up. 

9.  The  whale  is  now  seen  approaching  the  surface  ;  the 
gurgling  and  bubbling  water  which  rises,  proclaims  that  he 
is  near ;  his  nose  starts  from  the  sea  ;  the  rushing  spout  is 
projected  high  and  suddenly,  from  his  agitation.  The  slack 
of  the  line  is  now  coiled  in  the  tubs,  and  those  in  the  fast 
boat,  haul  themselves  gently  toward  the  whale.  The  boat- 
steerer  places  the  headsman  close  to  the  fin  of  the  trembling 
animal,  who  immediately  buries  his  long  lance  in  the  vitals 
of  the  leviathan,  while,  at  the  same  moment,  those  in  one  of 
the  other  boats,  dart  another  harpoon  into  his  opposite  side. 
Then,  ''  Stern  allP''  is  again  vociferated,  and  the  boats  shoot 
rapidly  away  from  the  danger. 

10.  Mad  with  the  agony  which  he  endures  from  these 
fresh  attacks,  the  infuriated  ''  sea  monster"  rolls  over  and 
over,  and  coils  an  amazing  length  of  line  around  him.  He 
rears  his  enormous  head,  and,  with  wide-expanded  jaws, 
snaps  at  every  thmg  around  him.  He  rushes  at  the  boats 
with  his  head, — they  are  propelled  before  him  with  vast 
swiftness,  and  sometimes  utterly  destroyed. 


270  SANDERS'    UNXON    SERIES. 

11.  He  is  lanced  again, — and  his  pain  appears  more 
than  he  can  bear.  He  throws  himself,  in  his  agony,  com- 
pletely out  of  his  element ;  the  boats  are  violently  jerked, 
by  which  one  of  the  lines  is  snapped  asunder  ;  at  the  same 
time  the  other  boat  is  upset,  and  its  crew  are  swimming  for 
their  lives.  The  whale  is  now  free  !  he  passes  along  the 
surface  with  remarkable  swiftness,  ''going  head  out;"  but 
the  two  boats  that  have  not  yet ''  fastened,"  and  are  fresh  and 
free,  now  give  chase. 

12.  The  whale  becomes  exhausted  from  the  blood  which 
flows  from  his  deep  and  dangerous  wounds,  and  the  two  hun- 
dred fathoms  of  line  belonging  to  the  overturned  boat,  which 
he  is  dragging  after  him  through  the  water,  checks  him  in 
his  course;  his  pursuers  again  overtake  him,  and  another 
harpoon  is  darted  and  buried  deeply  in  his  flesh. 

13.  The  fatal  lance  is,  at  length,  given  ;  the  blood  gushes 
from  the  nostrils  of  the  unfortunate  animal  in  a  thick,  black 
stream,  which  stains  the  clear  blue  water  of  the  ocean  to  a 
considerable  distance  around  the  scene  of  the  affray.  The 
immense  creature  may  now  again  endeavor  to  "sound,"  to 
escape  from  his  unrelenting  pursuers ;  but  he  is  powerless. 
He  soon  rises  to  the  surface,  and  passes  slowly  along  until  the 
death-pang  seizes  him,  when  his  appearance  is  awful  in  the 
extreme. 

14.  Suffering  from  suffocation,  or  from  the  stoppage  of 
some  important  organ,  the  whoie  strength  of  his  enormous 
frame  is  set  in  motion,  for  a  few  seconds,  when  his  convulsions 
throw  him  into  a  hundred  different  contortions  of  the  most 
violent  description,  by  which  the  sea  is  beaten  into  foam,  and 
boats  are  sometimes  crushed  to  atoms,  with  their  crews. 

15.  But  this  violent  action  being  soon  over,  the  now  un- 
conscious animal  passes  rapidly  along,  describing  in  his  rapid 
course  the  segment  of  a  circle;  this  is  his  ''flurry,"  which 


NUMBER    FOUR. 


271 


ends  in  his  sudden  dissolution.  The  mighty  rencounter  is 
finished.  The  gigantic  animal  rolls  over  on  his  side,  and 
floats  an  inanimate  mass  on  the  surface  of  the  crystal  deep, — 
a  victim  to  the  tyranny  and  selfishness,  as  well  as  a  wonder- 
ful proof  of  the  great  "power  of  the  mind  of  man. 

Questions. — 1.  How  are  whales  generally  discovered?  2.  Why  do  they 
come  to  the  surface  of  the  water  ?  3.  How  far  do  they  sometimes  descen(i 
in  the  ocean  ?    4.  Describe  the  manner  in  which  they  are  captured. 

LESSOU     LXXVIII. 

A'  ER  0  N^TJT,  one  who  sails  in  the  \  Iif  ter'  mi  na  ble,  boundless. 

Ee  doub'  led,  repeated.             [air.  i  Ya'ri  e  aA  ted,  diversified ;  varied. 

MAa  nif'  I  CENT,  grand ;  splendid.  \  Yerg'  ing,  tending ;  inclining. 

El'  e  va  TED,  raised  ;  excited-  Ob  lique'  ly,  slantingly. 

Gon'  do  la,  small  boat.  Res  pi  ra'  tion,  act  of  breathing. 

Ee  girt',  surrounded.  \  Ze'  nith,  point  in  the  heavens  di- 

Ro'  TA  RY,  turning  ;  revolving.  |       rectly  over  head. 

In  ten'  si  ty,  extreme  degree.  \  Man'  di  ble$,  jaws. 

A'  ER  OS  tat,  air-balloon.  \  Eu  roc'  ly  don,  tempestuous  wind, 

LEAVES    FROM    AN    AERONAUT* 

Willis  G-aylokd  Clakk. 

1.  My  hour  had  now  come,  and  I  entered  the  car.  With 
a  singular  taste,  the  band  struck  up,  at  this  moment,  the 
melting  air  of  ''Sweet  Honie."  It  almost  overcame  me. 
A  thousand  associations  of  youth,  friends,  of  all  that  I  must 
leave,  rushed  upon  my  mind.  But  I  had  no  leisure  for  sen- 
timent. A  buzz  ran  through  the  assemblage  ;  unnumbered 
hands  were  clapping,  unnumbered  hearts  beating  high ;  and 
/  was  the  cause.  Every  eye  was  upon  me.  There  was 
pride  in  the  thought. 

2.  ''Let  go!"  was  the  word.      The  cheers  redoubled/ 


272  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

handkerchiefe  waved  from  many  a  fair  hand ;  bright  faces 
beamed  from  every  window,  and  on  every  side.  One  dash 
with  my  knife,  and  I  rose  aloft,  a  habitant  of  air.  How 
magnificent  was  the  sight  which  now  burst  upon  me  !  How 
sublime  were  my  sensations  !  I  waved  the  flag  of  my  coun- 
try ;  the  cheers  of  the  multitude  from  a  thousand  housetops, 
reached  me  on  the  breeze ;  and  a  taste  of  the  rarer  atmosphere 
elevated  my  spirits  into  ecstasy. 

3.  The  city,  with  a  brilliant  sunshine  striking  the  spires 
and  domes,  now  unfolded  to  view  a  sight  incomparably  beau- 
tiful. My  gondola  went  easily  upward,  cleaving  the  depths 
of  heaven  like  a  vital  thing.  A  diagram  placed  before  you, 
on  the  table,  could  not  permit  you  to  trace  more  definitely 
than  I  now  could,  the  streets,  the  highways,  basins,  wharves, 
and  squares  of  the  town.  The  hum  of  the  city  arose  to  my 
ear,  as  from  a  vast  bee-hive ;  and  I  seemed  the  monarch-bee, 
directing  the  swarm. 

4.  I  heard  the  rattling  of  carriages,  the  hearty  yo-heavos! 
of  sailors  from  the  docks  that,  begirt  with  spars,  hemmed  the 
city  round.  I  was  a  spectator  of  all,  yet  aloof,  and  alone. 
Increasing  stillness  attended  my  way ;  and,  at  last,  the  mur- 
murs of  earth  came  to  my  ear  like  the  vast  vibrations  of  a 
bell.  My  car  tilted  and  trembled,  as  I  rose.  A  swift  wind 
sometimes  gave  the  balloon  a  rotary  motion,  which  made  me 
deathly  sick  for  a  moment;  but  strong  emotion  conquered 
all  my  physical  ailings. 

5.  My  brain  ached  with  the  intensity  of  my  rapture. 
Human  sounds  had  fainted  from  my  ear.  I  was  in  the 
abyss  of  heaven,  and  alone  with  my  God.  I  could  tell  my 
direction  by  the  sun  on  my  left ;  and,  as  his  rays  played  on 
the  aerostat,  it  seemed  only  a  bright  bubble,  wavering  in  the 
sky,  and  I,  a  suspended  mote,  hung  by  chance  to  its  train. 
Looking  below  me,  the  distant  Sound  and  Long  Island  ap- 


NUMBER    FOUR.  273 

peared  to  the  east ;  the  bay  lay  to  the  south,  sprinkled  with 
shipping  ;  under  me,  the  city,  girded  with  bright  rivers  and 
sparry  forests. 

6.  The  free  wind  was  on  my  cheek,  and  in  my  locks ; 
afar,  the  ocean  rolled  its  long,  blue  waves,  checkered  with 
masses  of  shadow,  and  gushes  of  ruby  sunlight ;  to  the  north 
and  west,  the  interminable  land,  variegated  like  a  map,  dot- 
ted with  purple,  and  green,  and  silver,  faded  to  the  eye. 
The  atmosphere  which  I  now  breathed,  seemed  to  dilate  my 
heart  at  every  breath.  I  uttered  some  audible  expressions. 
My  voice  was  weaker  than  the  faintest  sound  of  a  reed. 
There  was  no  object  near  to  make  it  reverb  or  echo. 

7.  My  barometer  now  denoted  an  immense  hight;  and, 
as  I  looked  upward  and  around,  the  concave  above  seemed 
like  a  mighty  waste  of  purple  air,  verging  to  blackness. 
Below,  it  was  lighter ;  but  a  long,  lurid  bar  of  cloud 
stretched  along  the  west,  temporarily  excluding  the  sun. 
The  shadows  rushed  afar  into  the  void,  and  a  solemn,  Sab- 
bath twilight  reigned  around.  I  was  now  startled  by  a  flut- 
tering in  my  gondola.  It  was  my  carrier-pigeon.  I  had 
forgotten  him  entirely.  I  attached  a  string  to  his  neck,  with 
a  label,  announcing  my  hight,  then  nearly  four  miles,  and 
the  state  of  the  barometer. 

8.  As  he  sat  on  the  side  of  the  car,  and  turned  his  tender 
eyes  upon  me  in  mute  supplication,  every  feather  shivering 
with  apprehension,  I  felt  that  it  was  a  guilty  act  to  push  him 
into  the  waste  beneath.  But  it  was  done ;  he  attempted  to 
rise,  but  I  out-sped  him ;  he  then  fell  obliquely,  fluttering 
and  moaning,  till  I  lost  him  in  the  haze.  My  greatest  alti- 
tude had  not  yet  been  reached.  I  was  now  five  miles  from 
terra  Jirma.^  I  began  to  breathe  with  difficulty.  The 
atmosphere  was  too  rare  for  safe  respiration. 

__  *  BoUd  earth. 

^  ^  12* 


274  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

9.  I  pulled  mj  valve-cord  to  descend.  It  refused  to  obey 
my  hand.  For  a  moment  I  was  horror-struck.  What  was 
to  be  done  ?  If  I  ascended  much  higher,  the  balloon  would 
explode.  I  threw  over  some  tissue  paper  to  test  my  pro- 
gress. It  is  well  known  thjit  this  will  rise  very  swiftly.  It 
fell,  as  if  blown  downward  by  a  wind  from  the  zenith.  I 
was  going  upward  like  an  arrow.  I  attempted  to  pray,  but 
my  parched  lips  could  Dot  move.  I  seized  the  cord  again, 
vith  desperate  energy.     Blessed  Heaven  !  it  moved. 

10.  I  threw  out  more  tissue.  It  rose  to  me  like  a  wing 
of  joy.  I  was  descending.  Though  far  from  sunset,  it  was 
now  dark  about  me,  except  a  track  of.  blood-red  haze  in  the 
direction  of  the  sun.  I  encountered  a  strong  current  of 
wind ;  mist  was,  about  me ;  it  lay  like  dew  upon  my  coat. 
At  last,  a  thick  bar  of  vapor  being  past,  what  a  scene  was 
disclosed  !  A  storm  was  sweeping  through  the  sky,  nearly 
a  mile  beneath ;  and  I  looked  down  upon  an  ocean  of  rain- 
bows, rolling  in  indescribable  grandeur,  to  the  music  of  the 
thunder-peal,  as  it  moaned  afar  and  near,  on  the  coming  and 
dying  wind. 

11.  A  frightened  eagle  had  ascended  through  the  tempest, 
and  sailed  for  minutes  by  my  side,  looking  at  me  with  pant- 
ing weariness,  and  quivering  mandibles,  but  with  a  dilated 
eye,  whose  keen  iris  flashed  unsubdued.  Proud  emblem  of 
my  country !  As  he  fanned  me  with  his  heavy  wing,  and 
looked  with  a  human  intelligence  at  the  car,  my  pulse 
i)Ounded  with  exulting  rapture.  Like  the  genius  of  my 
native  land,  he  had  risen  above  every  storm,  unfettered  and 

FREE. 

12.  But  my  transports  were  soon  at  an  end.  He  at- 
tempted to  light  on  the  balloon,  and  my  heart  sunk ;  I  feared 
his  huge  claws  would  tear  the  ^  silk.  I  pulled  my  cord  ;  he 
roso,  as  I  sank,  and  the  blast  swept  him  from  my  view  in  a 


i 


KUMBER    FOUR.  275 

moment.  A  flock  of  wild-fowl,  beat  by  the  storm,  were 
coursing  below,  on  bewildered  pinions ;  and.  as  I  was  near- 
ing  them,  I  knew  I  was  descending.  A  breaking  rift  now 
admitted  the  sun.  The  rainbows  tossed  and  gleamed  ;  chains 
of  fleecy  rack,  shining  in  prismatic  rays  of  gold,  and  purple, 
and  emerald,  "  beautiful  exceedingly,"  spread  on  every  hand. 

13.  Yast  curtains  of  clouds  pavilioned  the  immensity, 
brighter  than  celestial  roses ;  masses  of  mist  were  lifted  on 
high,  like  strips  of  living  fire,  more  radiant  than  the  sun 
himself,  when  his  glorious  noontide  culminates  from  the 
equator.  A  kind  of  aerial  Euroclydon  now  smote  my  car, 
and  three  of  the  cords  parted,  which  tilted  my  gondola  to 
the  side,  filling  me  with  terror.  I  caught  the  broken  cords 
in  my  hand,  but  could  not  tie  them. 

14.  The  storm  below  was  now  rapidly  passing  away,  and 
beneath  its  waving  outline,  to  the  south-east,  I  saw  the  ocean. 
Ships  were  speeding  on  their  course,  and  their  bright  sails 
melting  into  distance ;  a  rainbow  hung  afar ;  and  the  rolling 
anthems  of  the  Atlantic  came  like  celestial  hymnings  to  my 
ear.  Presently  all  was  clear  below  me.  The  fresh  air 
played  around.  I  had  taken  a  noble  circuit ;  and  my  last 
view  was  better  than  the  first.  I  was  far  over  the  bay, 
^'  afloating  sweetly  to  the  west."  The  city,  colored  by  the 
last  blaze  of  day,  brightened  remotely  to  the  view. 

15.  Below,  ships  were  hastening  to  and  fro  through  the 
Narrows,  and  the  far  country  lay  smiling  like  an  Eden. 
Bright  rivers  ran  like  ribbons  of  gold  and  silver,  till  they 
were  lost  in  the  vast  inland,  stretching  beyond  the  view;  the 
gilded  mountains  were  flinging  their  purple  shadows  over 
many  a  vale ;  bays  were  blushing  to  the  farewell  day-beams ; 
and  now  I  was  passing  over  a  green  island.  ,  I  sailed  to  the 
mainland ;  saw  the  tall,  old  trees  waving  to  the  evening 
breeze;  heard  the  rural  lowing  of  herds,  and  the  welcome 


276 


SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 


sound  of  human  voices ;  and,  finally,  sweeping  over  forest- 
tops  and  embowered  villages,  at  last,  descended  with  the  sun, 
among  a  kind-hearted,  surprised,  and  hospitable  community, 
in  as  pretty  a  town  as  one  could  desire  to  see,  "safe  and 
well." 

Questions. — 1.  What  demonstrations  were  made  by  the  people  as  the 
aeronaut  began  to  ascend  ?  2.  How  did  the  city  and  other  objects  appear 
to  him?  3.  What  could  he  hear?  4.  Describe  the  appearance  of  the 
ocean.  5.  What  did  he  do  with  his  carrier-pigeon  ?  6.  How  high  did  he 
ascend  ?  1.  Describe  his  descent.  8.  What  is  said  about  the  eagle  that 
came  near  him  ?    9.  Describe  the  appearance  of  the  clouds  beneath  him. 


LESSON    LXXIX. 


Boun'  tt,  charity ;  favor. 
Pru'  gal,  prudent ;  economical. 
Flour'  ish  ed,  thrived ;  prospered. 
Dis  charg'  ED,  performed. 
Breed'  ing,  education. 
Em  rrao'  ED,  accepted. 
Main  tain'  ed,  supported. 


Trudg'  ed,  traveled. 
Be  guIl'  ed,  amused- 
Le'  gal,  lawful. 
Twain,  two. 

Be  witch'  ing,  charming. 
Younk'  er,  lad ;  youngster. 
Med'  i  ta  tive,  thoughtful. 


Pro  vok'  ed,  (pro,  forward,  forth ;  voked,  called ;)  called  forth ;   excited. 

In  clude',  (in,  in ;  clude,  shut ;)  shut  in ;  inclose. 

In  sert',  (in,  in;  sert,  join,  set;)  join,  or  set  in;  put  in. 


THE    DAPPLE    MARE* 

John  G.  Saxh. 

1.  "  Once  on  a  time,"  as  ancient  tales  declare, 
There  lived  a  farmer  in  a  quiet  dell 
In  Massachusetts,  but  exactly  where. 

Or  when,  is  really  more  than  I  can  tell, — 
Except  that  quite  above  the  public  bounty, 
He  lived  within  his  means  and  Bristol  county. 


b 


NUMBER    FOUR.  277 

2.  By  patient  labor  and  unceasing  care. 

He  earned,  and  so  enjoyed,  his  daily  bread  ; 
Contented  always  with  his  frugal  fare, 

Ambition  to  be  rich  ne'er  vexed  his  head ; 
And  thus  unknown  to  envy,  want,  or  wealth, 
He  flourished  long  in  comfort,  peace,  and  health. 

3.  The  gentle  partner  of  his  humble  lot, 

The  joy  and  jewel  of  his  wedded  life, 
Discharged  the  duties  of  his  peaceful  cot, 

Like  a  true  woman  and  a  faithful  wife ; 
Her  mind  improved  by  thought  and  useful  reading, 
Kind  words  and  gentle  manners  showed  her  breeding. 

4.  Grown  old,  at  last,  the  farmer  called  his  son, 

The  youngest,  (and  the  favorite  I  suppose,) 
And  said, — "  I  long  have  thought,  my  darling  John^ 

'Tis  time  to  bring  my  labors  to  a  close  ; 
So  now  to  toil  I  mean  to  bid  adieu. 
And  deed,  my  son,  the  homestead-farm  to  you." 

5.  The  boy  embraced  the  boon  with  vast  delight. 

And  promised,  while  their  precious  lives  remained, 
He'd  till  and  tend  the  farm  from  morn  till  night, 

And  see  his  parents  handsomely  maintained ; 
God  help  him,  he  would  never  fail  to  love,  nor 
Do  aught  to  grieve  his  gen'rous  old  gov'nor. 

6.  The  farmer  said, — "  Well,  let  us  now  proceed, 

(You  know  there's  always  danger  in  delay,) 
And  get  'Squire  Robinson  to  write  the  deed  ; 

Come,  — Where's  my  staff? — we'll  soon  be  on  the  way.* 
But  John  replied,  with  tender,  filial  care, 
*^  You're  old  and  weak— I'll  catch  the  Dapple  Mare.^* 


278  SANDERS'    UNION    SEKIKS. 

7.  The  mare  was  saddled,  and  the  old  man  got  on, 

The  boy  on  foot  trudged  cheerfully  along, 
The  while,  to  cheer  his  sire,  the  duteous  son 

Beguiled  the  weary  way  with  talk  and  song. 
Arrived,  at  length,  they  found  the  'Squire  at  home, 
And  quickly  told  him  wherefore  they  had  come. 

8.  The  deed  was  writ  in  proper  form  of  law, 

With  many  a ' '  foresaid, "  ^ '  therefore, ' '  and  ^ '  the  same,  '* 
And  made  throughout  without  mistake  or  flaw, 

To  show  that  John  had  now  a  legal  claim 
To  all  his  father's  land — conveyed,  given,  sold, 
Quit-claimed,  et  cetera j* — to  have  and  hold. 

9.  Their  business  done,  they  left  the  lawyer's  door, 

Happier,  perhaps,  than  when  they  entered  there; 
And  started  off  as  they  had  done  before, — 

The  son  on  foot,  the  father  on  the  mare. 
But  ere  the  twain  a  single  mile  had  gone, 
A  brilliant  thought  occurred  to  Master  John. 

IQ.  Alas  for  truth  ! — alas  for  filial  duty  ! — 

Alas  that  Satan  in  the  shape  of  pride, 
(His  most  bewitching  form  save  that  of  beauty, ) 

Whispered  the  lad — ''  My  boy,  you  ought  to  ride  1" 
*'  Get  off!"  exclaimed  the  younker — "  't  isn't  fair 
That  you  should  always  ride  the  Dapple  Mare!" 

11-  The  son  was  lusty,  and  the  sire  was  old. 

And  so,  with  many  an  oath  and  many  a  frown, 
The  hapless  father  did  as  he  was  told ; 

The  man  got  off  the  steed,  the  boy  got  on. 
And  rode  away  as  fast  as  she  could  trot,  . 

And  left  his  sire  to  trudge  it  home  on  foot  I 
*  And  so  forth. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  279 

12.  That  night,  while  seated  round  the  kitchen  fire 

The  household  sat,  cheerful  as  if  no  word 
Or  deed,  provoked  the  injured  father's  ire. 

Or  aught  to  make  him  sad  had  e'er  occurred, —    • 
Thus  spoke  he  to  his  son  :  "  We  quite  forgot, 
I  think,  t'  include  that  little  turnip  lot  !" 

13.  *'I'm  very  sure,  my  son,  it  wouldn't  hurt  it," 

Calmly  observed  the  meditative  sire, 
*'  To  take  the  deed,  my  lad,  and  just  insert  it ;" 

Here  the  old  man  inserts  it — m  the  fire  ! 
Then  cries  aloud  with  most  triumphant  air, 
^' Who  now,  my  son,  shall  ride  the  Dapple  Mare?" 

Questions. — 1.  "What  proposition  did  the  father  make  to  his  eon?  2. 
What  did  the  sou  promise  to  do  ?  3.  How  did  the  son  treat  his  fkther 
after  he  got  the  deed  ?     4.  What  did  the  old  gentleman  do  ? 

LESSON    LXXX. 

Hard'  i  hood,  bravery.  <  Pal'  lid,  pale. 

Main' -TRUCK,  small  cap  at  the  top     Lu'  rid,  dismal;  gloomy. 

of  a  flagstaff  or  masthead.  •>  Hue,  color. 

A  GHAST',  horrified.  \  Riv'  et  ed,  firmly  fixed. 

Groups,  clusters ;  crowds.  \  Fold'  ed,  embraced ;  •  clasped. 

1  Ma  Hon',  {Ma  hone,)  a  sea-port  town  on  the  island  of  Minorca,  in  the 
Mediterranean  Sea. 

A    LEAP    FOR    LIFE* 

Gkorgk  p.  Mobbm, 

1.  Old  Ironsides  at  anchor  lay, 
{sl.^      In  the  harbor  of  Mahon^ ; 

A  dead  calm  rested  on  the  bay, — 
The  waves  to  sleep  had  gone, — 


280  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

When  little  Jack,=^  the  captain's  son, 

With  gallant  hardihood, 
Climbed  shroud  and  spar, — and  then  upon 

The  main-truck  rose  and  stood  ! 

2.  A  shudder  ran  through  every  vein, — 

All  eyes  were  turned  on  high ! 
There  stood  the  boy,  with  dizzy  brain, 

Between  the  sea  and  sky ! 
No  hold  had  he  above, — below, 

Alone  he  stood  in  air ! 
At  that  far  hight  none  dared  to  go, — 

No  aid  could  reach  him  there. 

8.  We  gazed, — but  not  a  man  could  speak 

With  horror  all  aghast 
In  groups,  with  pallid  brow  and  cheek, 

We  watched  the  quivering  mast  ! 
The  atmosphere  grew  thick  and  hot, 

And  of  a  lurid  hue. 
As,  riveted  unto  the  spot, 

Stood  officers  and  crew. 

4.  The  father  came  on  deck.     He  gasped, 
"  0  God,  Thy  will  be  done !" 
Then  suddenly  a  rifle  grasped, 
And  aimed  it  at  his  son  ! 
**  Jump  far  out,  boy,  into  the  wave ! 

Jump,  or  I  fire  !"  he  said. 
*'  That  only  chance  your  life  can  save  I 
('')     Jump  !  jump,  boy  !"     He  obeyed. 

*  A  name  oommonly  applied  to  a  young  sailor. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  281 

5.  He  sank, — ^he  rose, — he  lived, — he  moved, — 

He  for  the  ship  struck  out ! 
On  board  we  hailed  the  lad  beloved 

With  many  a  manly  shout. 
His  father  drew,  in  silent  joy. 

Those  wet  arms  round  his  neck, 
Then  folded  to  his  heart  the  boy, 

And  fainted  on  the  deck ! 

Questions. — 1.  What  did  the  captain's  son  do,  on  board  the  Ironsides  ? 
2.  Describe  his  situation.  3.  What  is  said  of  the  officers  and  crew  ?  4. 
What  did  the  father  say  and  do  ?     6.  What  did  the  boy  do  ? 


LESSON   LXXXI. 

Com  min"  gle,  mix  or  unite.  j  Wia'  wam,  Indian  hut  or  cabin. 

Pe  des'  TBI  AN,  traveler  on  foot.         j  Em  bark'  ed,  went  aboard. 
Prom'  i  nent,  important.  Twang,  quick,  sharp  sound. 

Trag'  ic,  fatal ;  mournful.  |  Spa'  ciouS,  large ;  capacious. 

Nar  rate',  tell ;  relate.  |  Wa'  ri  ly,  cautiously. 

-  Yore,  olden  time.  |  Mys  te'  ri  ous  ly,  strangely. 

Wi'  LY,  craft  ;  cunning.  Om'  in  ous,  foreboding  ill. 

Re  lent'  less,  hard-hearted ;  cruel.    1  Im  pla'  ca  ble,  relentless. 

Un  trace' A  BLE,  (uN,  not ;  TRACE,  mark;  able,  thai  can  be;)  that  can, 
not  be  marked,  or  traced ;  not  found  out. 

THE    INDIAN    BRIDE'S   REVENGE. 

L.  M.  Stowell. 

1.  In  the  State  of  New  York,  where  the  dark,  foaming 
waters  of  the  Black  River,  after  roaring  and  surging  through 
many  pleasant  fields,  beautiful  groves,  and  dense  woodlands, 
commingle  with  the  clear,  cold  waters  of  Lake  Ontario,  the 
wandering  pedestrian  or  the  lone  fisherman  may  see,  resting 
upon  a  gravelly  flat,  the  remains  of  an  old  Indian  canoe, 


282  SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

whose  once  beautiful  proportions,  now  untraceable  in  its  rot- 
tenness, bore  a  prominent  part  in  the  tragic  event  I  am 
about  to  narrate. 

2.  Through  these  pleasant  valleys,  among  the  broken 
hills,  and  in  her  majestic  forests,  of  yore,  the  wily  Indian 
and  his  dusky  mate,  held  undisputed  possession ;  and  many 
are  the  incidents,  yet  unwritten,  of  tragic  and  thrilling 
interest,  that  transpired  around  the  red  man's  camp-fire,  ere 
the  white  man  disturbed  their  forest  homes. 

3.  Sious'ka,  or  the  ''Wild  Flower,'^  was  the  daughter 
of  a  powerful  chief  of  the  Onondagas,  and  the  only  being 
ever  known  to  turn  the  relentless  old  chief  from  a  savage 
purpose.  Something  of  this  influence  was  owing  to  her 
great  beauty ;  but  'more  to  the  gentleness  of  which  that 
beauty  was  the  emblem.  Her  downcast  eye,  her  trembling 
lip,  her  quiet,  submissive  motion,  all  bespoke  its  language ; 
and  many  were  the  young  chieftains  that  sought  to  win  her 
affections. 

4.  Among  her  admirers  were  two  young  chiefs  of  the 
Oneidas,  with  whom  the  Onondagas  were  on  the  most  friendly 
terms.  Si  ous'ka's  father,  in  order  to  cherish  the  friendly 
feeling  of  the  two  tribes,  and,  at  the  same  time,  strengthen 
his  power,  besought  her  to  accept  the  more  powerful  chief, 
''  Eagle  Eye."  He  did  not  plead  in  vain;  for  she  had  long 
loved  the  young  Oneida. 

5.  One  bright  sunny  morning,  in  early  spring,  as  the 
old  chief  was  out  hunting,  the  young  Oneida  crossed  his 
path,  upon  which  the  old  man  advanced,  and,  laying  his  hand 
upon  his  shoulder,  pointed  to  the  dwelling  of  Si  ous'  ka. 
Not  a  word  was  spoken.  The  proud  old  man  and  the  strong, 
young  chief  proceeded  toward  her  wigwam^  and  entered 
together. 

6.  Si  ous'  ka  was  seated  in  one  corner,  engaged  upon  some 


NUMBER    FOUR.  288 

fancy  basket-work,  and  did  not  notice  their  approach  until 
the  J  had  entered.  The  old  chief  looked  upon  her  with  an 
expression  of  love,  which  his  stern  countenance  never  wore 
except  in  her  presence.  "  Si  ous'ka,"  he  said  in  a  subdued 
tone,  "Go  to  the  wigwam  of  the  Oneida,  that  jour  father's 
tribe  may  be  strengthened,  and  many  moons  may  shine  upon 
their  peace  and  prosperity.^' 

T.  There  was  mingled  joy  and  modesty  in  the  upward 
glance  of  the  "Wild  Flower"  of  the  Onondagas,  and,  when 
the  young  chief  saw  the  light  of  her  mild  eye  suddenly 
and  timidly  vailed  by  its  deeply-fringed  lid,  he  knew^  that  her 
love  had  lost  none  of  its  power.  The  marriage  song  was 
soon  sung  in  the  royal  wigwam,  in  which  the  sweet  voice  of 
Si  ous'ka  was  happily  heard  to  mingle. 

8.  When  the  rejected  chief  of  the  Oneidas  heard  that  the 
"Wild  Flower"  had  mated  with  the  "Eagle  Eye,"  his 
wrath  knew  no  bounds,  and  he  secretly  resolved  upon  re- 
venge. Two  years  passed  away,  and,  as  yet,  no  good  oppor- 
tunity had  arrived;  for  he  dared  not  attack  "  Eagle  Eye"  in 
open  conflict,  for  fear  of  his  superior  powers ;  and,  assassin- 
like, he  sought  to  give  the  blow  unperceived. 

9.  At  length,  the  spring  came,  and  a  number  of  the  tribe 
prepared  to  visit  Lake  Ontario,  on  a  fishing  and  hunting  ex- 
cursion. Among  the  number  who  went,  were  the  "  Eagle 
Eye,"  Sious'ka,  and  their  little  boy.  They  were  obliged  to 
carry  their  light,  birchen  canoes  from  home,  and  these  were 
packed  with  the  necessary  tackle,  skins  for  beds,  &c.     The 

•  strong  men  of  the  party  carried  the  canoes  on  tlieir  shoul- 
ders, and  the  women  the  smaller  articles  of  furniture. 

10.  They  had  advanced  across  the  country,  until  they 
reached  the  Black  Eiver,  and,  by  carrying  their  canoes 
around  falls  and  rapids,  gently  floated  down  the  stream  till 
they  reached  the  great  falls,  about  six  miles  from  the  Lake. 


284  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Here  they  halted  for  the  night,  and  encamped  about  half  a 
mile  above  the  falls. 

11.  The  morning  came;  and,  as  the  first  beam  of  the 
rising  sun  pierced  the  forest  shade,  the  party  again  em- 
barked in  their  canoes  for  the  mouth  of  the  river,  the  gaudy 
canoe  of  Si  ous'ka,  which  her  father  had  given  her,  taking 
the  lead.  They  had  scarcely  started  from  the  shore,  ere  the 
sharp  twang  of  a  bow-string  was  heard  from  the  shore,  and 
an  unerring  arrow  pierced  the  heart  of  ''  Eagle  Eye."  He 
fell  over  the  side  of  the  canoe,  and  was  swept  by  the  current 
over  the  great  falls. 

12.  The  party  immediately  started  in  pursuit  of  the  cow- 
ard murderer ;  but  they  sought  in  vain.  His  hiding-place 
was  too  sure, — he  had  taken  refuge  in  a  cave,  the  entrance 
of  which  was  hid  from  observation  by  a  thick  clump  of 
cedars.  Here  he  remained  till  he  was  certain  the  company 
had  departed.  This  cave  is  still  there,  and  I  have  often  been 
in  its  many  chambers, — some  of  which  are  very  spacious. 

13.  The  fatal  shaft  was  winged  from  the  bow  of  the  re- 
venged Oneida  chief  Having  been  apprised  of  the  expedi- 
tion, he  had  warily  dogged  the  steps  of  the  party,  until  a 
favorable  opportunity  presented  itself,  and  then  satisfied  his 
secret  longing  for  revenge  upon  the  enemy,  whom  he  did  not 
dare  to  attack  even-handed.  The  party  sought  him  far  and 
near ;  but,  as  no  trace  of  any  one  could  be  found,  they  im- 
agined, with  superstitious  fear,  that  the  "  Great  Spirit"  had 
thus  summoned  "  Eagle  Eye"  to  the  "  Spirit's  Hunting 
Ground." 

14.  When  they  returned  to  their  canoes,  no  traces  of  Si  ous'- 
ka and  her  child  were  to  be  found.  They,  too,  had  mysteri- 
ously disappeared,  and  the  whole  party,  with  ominous  silence, 
hastened  around  the  falls,  and  away  from  the  fearful  place. 
When  Si  ous'ka  saw  the  fatal  shaft  pierce  her  companion, 


NUMBER    FOUR.    .  285 

with  a  fearful  shriek  she  fell  into  the  bottom  of  the  canoe, 
hid  herself  in  the  furs,  and  immediately  her  reason  forsook 
her. 

15.  When  she  recovered,  she  found  that  her  canoe,  urged 
on  by  the  current,  had  floated  into  a  large  cave,  and  was 
firmly  wedged  in  between  two  rocks,  and  her  little  boy,  with 
his  bow  and  arrow  in  his  hand,  was  quietly  sleeping  by  her 
side.  Dislodging  the  canoe,  she  plied  the  oars,  and  was  soon 
outside  the  cave. 

16.  On  finding  her  people  had  left  her,  she  sought  the 
shore,  and,  fastening  the  canoe,  proceeded  below  the  falls, 
where  she  found  the  body  of  the  ill-fated  "Eagle  Eye," 
where  it  had  washed  ashore.  With  superhuman  strength, 
she  bore  the  mangled  body  to  a  thick  grove  of  cedars,  and, 
with  her  own  hands,  dug  a  rude  grave,  and  covered  his 
remains  with  dried  leaves  and  earth.  That  night  she  kept 
her  lonely  watch  beside  the  grave  of  all  that  she  held  dear 
on  earth,  save  her  boy,  intending  to  follow  the  party  on  the 
morrow. 

17.  The  morning  came,  and  the  mid-day  sun  began  to 
descend  toward  the  western  hills,  ere  she  left  the  grave  of 
the  murdered  chief  But,  at  length,  she  sorrowfully  de- 
parted ;  and,  on  arriving  where  shemoored  the  canoe  the  day 
before,  what  was  her  surprise  to  see  the  murderer  of  her 
husband,  quietly  sleeping  upon  the  skins  where  last  "  Eaglo 
Eye"  had  reposed,  in  the  bow  of  the  canoe. 

18.  From  that  moment  Si  ous'ka  was  changed.  Her 
quiet,  submissive  air  immediately  gave  place  to  fierce  stern- 
ness, and  the  eye  that  had  always  beamed  with  the  smile  of 
love,  shot  forth  flashes  of  bitter  hate  and  passion,  implacable 
as  the  most  bloodthirsty  of  her  tribe.  Noiselessly  throwing 
the  oars  from  the  boat,  with  a  wild  shriek,  she  quickly  swung 
it  around  into  the  rapidly  rolling  current,  and  it  was  hurried 


286  SAiyDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

toward  the  brink  of  that  awful  cataract,  over  which  no  living 
being  had  ever  passed  alive. 

19.  The  young  chief,  awakened  by  that  fearful,  exulting 
cry  of  revenge,  and  seeing  the  peril  of  his  situation,  leaped 
from  the  bark  that  was  hurrying  him  to  sure  destruction, 
and  vainly  sought  to  gain  the  shore.  After  struggling  with 
the  swift  tide  for  a  moment,  in  which  he  was  carried  nearer 
and  nearer  the  awful  brink,  he  turned,  and,  with  a  wild, 
unearthly  yell,  plunged  over,  and  the  boiling  waters  only 
responded  to  his  death-wail,  as  he  sunk  to  rise  no  more,  and 
his  spirit  joined  that  of  his  victim  in  the  "  Spirit  Land." 

20.  After  the  gentle  "Wild  Flower"  had  avenged  the 
death  of  the  '^  Eagle  Eye,"  she  returned  to  her  father's  wig- 
wam, and  spent  the  remainder  of  her  life  to  the  memory  of 
her  heart's  first  devotion.  The  canoe,  all  battered  and  broken, 
floated  to  the  mouth  of  the  river,  bottom  side  up,  where  it 
was  seen  by  one  of  the  party  while  fishing,  drawn  to  the 
shore,  and  left  to  decay.  The  party  supposed  that  "  Eagle 
Eye,"  Sious'ka,  and  her  child,  had  all  perished  in  some 
mysterious  manner. 

Questions. — 1.  Who  was  Si  ous'ka  ?  2.  "Who  became  her  husband  ?  3. 
What  efifect  had  her  marriage  upon  the  rejected  Oneida  chief?  4.  In  what 
way  did  he  seek  revenge?  5.  How  did  Sious'ka  avenge  the  death  of  her 
husband  ? 

LESSON     LXXXII. 

En  ter  tain'  ed,  had ;  harbored.       }  Ri'  val  ry,  emulation. 
Pe  cul  iar'  I  TY,  something  special.      Re  vers'  e$,  troubles ;  difficulties. 
Cha  grin'  ed,  {sha  grin'  ed,)  vexed,  i  In  vig'  or  a  ted,  made  strong. 
Mor'  ti  fi  ed,  hurt  in  feeling.  I  Des  0  la'  tion,  waste ;  ruin. 

Out  strip',  go  beyond ;  excel.  I  Ref'  uge,  shelter ;  protection. 

Sym'  pa  thiz  ed,  (sym,  with ;  pate,  feeling ;  ize,  make,  have  ;  ed,  did ;) 
did  havQ  feeling  with.     Seo  Note  on  the  suffix  ize,  p.  132  of  the  Analysis. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  287 

^  Sis'  e  ra,  captain  of  the  army  of  the  Canaanitish  king,  Jabin.  He  was 
utterly  defeated  by  Barak;  Fleeing  on  foot,  he  took  refuge  in  the  tent  of 
Jael,  wife  of  Heber.  There,  while  asleep,  Jael  drove  a  nail  through  his 
temples,  and  so  he  died.  His  mother,  finding  he  did  not  return  from  the 
battle,  "  looked  out  at  a  window,  and  cried  through  the  lattice.  Why  is  his 
chariot  so  long  in  coming?"  Bead  4th  and  5th  chapters  of  Judges. 


A    MOTHER^S    IxOYE. 

Albert  Baenbb. 

1.  Many  of  us  who  are  advanced  beyond  the  period  of 
childhood,  went  out  from  home  to  embark  on  the  stormy  sea 
of  life.  Of  the  feelings  of  a  father,  and  of  his  interest  in 
our  welfare,  we  have  never  entertained  a  doubt,  and  our  home 
was  dear  because  he  was  there ;  but  there  was  a  peculiarity 
in  the  feeling  that  it  was  the  home  of  our  mother.  Where 
she  lived,  there  was  a  place  that  we  felt  was  home.  There 
was  one  place  where  we  would  always  be  welcome,  one  place 
where  we  would  be  met  with  a  smile,  one  place  w^here  we 
would  be  sure  of  a  friend. 

2.  The  world  might  be  indifferent  to  us.  We  might  be 
unsuccessful  in  our  studies  or  our  business.  The  new  friends 
which  we  supposed  we  had  made,  might  prove  to  be  false. 
The  honor  which  we  thought  we  deserved,  might  be  with- 
held from  us.  We  might  be  chagrined  and  mortified  by  see- 
ing a  rival  outstrip  us,  and  bear  away  the  prize  which  we 
sought.  But  there  loas  a  place  where  no  feelings  of  rivalry 
were  found,  and  where  those  whom  the  world  overlooked, 
would  be  sure  of  a  friendly  greeting.  Whether  pale  and  wan 
by  study,  care,  or  sickness,  or  flushed  with  health  and  flat- 
tering success,  we  were  sure  that  we  should  be  welcome 
tliore. 

3.  Though  the  world  was  cold  toward  us,  yet  there  was 
one  who  always  rejoiced  in  our  success,  and  always  was 
affected  in  our  reverses ;  and  there  was  a  place  to  which  we 


288  SANDERS*    UNION    SERI£S. 

might  go  back  from  the  storm  which  began  to  pelt  us,  where 
we  might  rest,  and  become  encouraged  and  invigorated  for  a 
new  conflict.  So  have  I  seen  a  bird,  in  its  first  efforts  to 
iiy,  leave  its  nest,  and  stretch  its  wings,  and  go  forth  to  the 
wide  world.  But  the  wind  blew  it  back,  and  the  rain  began 
to  fall,  and  the  darkness  of  night  began  to  draw  on,  and 
there  was  no  shelter  abroad,  and  it  sought  its  way  back  to 
its  nest,  to  take  shelter  beneath  its  mother's  wings,  and  to 
be  refreshed  for  the  struggles  of  a  new  day ;  but  then  it  flew 
away  to  think  of  its  nest  and  its  mother  no  more. 

4.  But  not  thus  did  we  leave  our  home  when  we  bade  adieu 
to  it  to  go  forth  alone  to  the  manly  duties  of  life.  Even 
amidst  the  storms  that  then  beat  upon  us,  and  the  disappoint- 
ments that  we  met  with,  and  the  coldness  of  the  world,  we 
felt  still  that  there  was  one  who  sympathized  in  our  troubles, 
as  well  as  rejoiced  in  our  success,  and  that,  whatever  might 
be  abroad,  when  we  entered  the  door  of  her  dwelling,  we 
should  be  met  with  a  smile.  We  expected  that  a  mother, 
like  the  mother  of  Sisera,  as  she  ''looked  out  at  her  win- 
dow," waiting  for  the  coming  of  her  son  laden  with  the  spoils 
of  victory,  would  look  out  for  our  coming,  and  that  our 
return  would  renew  her  joy  and  ours  in  our  earlier  days. 

5.  It  makes  a  sad  desolation  when,  from  such  a  place,  a 
mother  is  taken  away,  and  when,  whatever  may  be  the  sor- 
rows or  the  successes  in  life,  she  is  to  greet  the  returning  son 
or  daughter  no  more.  The  home  of  our  childhood  may  be 
still  lovely.  The  old  family  mansion — the  green  fields — the 
running  stream  —  the  moss-covered  well — the  trees — the 
lawn — the  rose — the  sweet-brier — may  be  there.  Perchance, 
too,  there  may  be  an  aged  father,  with  venerable  locks,  sit- 
ting in  his  loneliness,  with  every  thing  to  command  respect 
and  love ;  but  she  is  not  there.  Her  familiar  voice  is  not 
heard.     The  mother  has  been  borne  forth  to  sleep  by  the  side 


NUMBER    FOUR.  289 

of  her  children  who  went  before  her,  and  the  place  is  not 
what  it  was. 

6.  There  may  be  those  there  whom  we  much  love ;  but  she 
is  not  there.  We  may  have  formed  new  relations  in  life, 
tender  and  strong  as  they  can  be ;  we  may  have  another 
home,  dear  to  us  as  was  the  home  of  our  childhood,  where 
there  is  all  in  affection,  kindness,  and  religion,  to  make  us 
happy ;  but  that  home  is  not  what  it  was,  and  it  will  never 
be  what  it  was  again.  It  is  a  loosening  of  one  of  the  cords 
"which  bound  us  to  earth,  designed  to  prepare  us  for  our 
eternal  flight  from  every  thing  dear  here  below,  and  to  teach 
us  that  there  is  no  place  here,  that  is  to  be  our  permanent 
home. 

Questions. — 1,  "What  renders  home  doubly  endearing?  2.  Where  ara 
•we  always  -welcome?  3.  Who  always  rejoices  in  our  successes,  and  is 
affected  in  our  reverses  ?  4.  AVho  was  Sisera,  and  what  account  is  given  of 
him? 


LESSON  LXXXIII. 

Un  spot'  ted,  pure  ;  unstained.  j  PuR  su'  ING,  following. 

F^l'  ter,  fail.  I  Stern'  er,  harsher ;  more  rigid. 

Tra'  cer  t,  traces ;  impressions  \  De  fy',  dare ;  challenge. 

Im'  press,  mark ;  stamp.  \  Who'  so,  any  person  "whatever. 

Do  min'  ion,  authority ;  predominance.)  To'  ken,  sign ;  indication. 

Bhrink,  withdraw.  J  Broth'  er  hood,  fraternity. 


THE    LIFE-BOOK* 

Home  Jottbval. 

1.  Write,  mother,  write, 

A  new,  unspotted  book  of  life  before  thee, 
Thine  is  the  hand  to  trace  upon  its  pages 
4U  13 


290  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

The  first  few  characters,  to  live  in  glory, 

Or  live  in  shame,  through  long,  unending  ages ! 
Write,  mother,  write ! 
Thy  hand,  though  woman's,  must  not  faint  nor  falter; 

The  lot  is  on  thee, — nerve  thee  then  with  care, — 
A  mother^ s  tracery  time  may  never  alter ; 

Be  its  first  impress,  then,  the  breath  of  prayer. 
Write,  mother,  write  ! 

2.  Write,  father,  write! 

Take  thee  a  pen  plucked  from  an  eagle's  pinion, 

And  write  immortal  actions  for  thy  son ; 
Teach  him  that  man  forgets  man's  high  dominion, 
Creeping  on  earth,  leaving  great  deeds  undone  ! 
Write,  father,  write! 
Leave  on  his  life-book  a  fond  father's  blessing. 
To  shield  him  'mid  temptation,  toil;  and  sin, 
And  he  shall  go  to  glory's  field,  possessing 
Strength  to  contend,  and  confidence  to  tvin. 
Write,  father,  write ! 


8.  Write,  sister,  write! 

Nay,  shrink  not,  for  a  sister's  love  is  holy ! 

Write  words  the  angels  whisper  in  thine  ears,-*- 
No  bud  of  sweet  a  flection,  howe'er  lowly. 
But  planted  here,  will  bloom  in  after  years. 
Write,  sister,  write! 
Something  to  cheer  him,  his  rough  way  pursuing, 

For  manhood's  lot  is  sterner  far  than  ours ; 
He  may  not  pause, — he  must  be  up  and  doing, 
Whilst  thou  sitt'st  idly,  dreaming  among  flowers. 
Write,  sister,  write  1 


NUMBER    FOUR.*  291 

4.  Write,  brother,  write! 

Strike  a  bold  blow  upon  those  kindred  pages, — 

Write ;  shoulder  to  shoulder,  brother,  we  will  go  ; 
Heart  linked  to  heart,  though  wild  the  conflict  rages, 

We  will  defy  the  battle  and  the  foe. 
Write,  brother,  write ! 
We  who  have  trodden  boyhood's  path  together, 

Beneath  the  summer's  sun  and  winter's  sky, 
What  matter  if  life  brings  us  some  foul  weather, 

We  may  be  stronger  than  adversity ! 
Write,  brother,  write! 

5.  Fellow  immortal,  write  I 

One  God  reigns  in  the  Heavens, — there  is  no  other, — 

And  all  mankind  are  brethren — thus  'tis  spoken, — • 
And  whoso  aids  a  sorrowing,  struggling  brother, 

By  kindly  word,  or  deed,  or  friendly  token, 
Shall  win  the  favor  of  our  heavenly  Father, 

Who  judges  evil,  and  rewards  the  good. 
And  who  hath  linked  the  race  of  man  together, 

In  one  vast,  universal  brotherhood  I 
Fellow  immortal,  write ! 

Questions. — 1.  "What  may  the  mother  write  in  the  Life-Book  ?  2.  What, 
the  father  ?  3.  What,  the  sister  ?  4.  What,  the  brother  ?  5.  What  may- 
all  write  7 


-*^$c:^^^^^^^-'^f--^--=- — 


LESSON    LXXXIV. 

Ode,  short  poem.  J  Eec  re  a'  tion,  amusement. 

Pa  ter'  nal,  coming  by  inheritance.  \  In'  no  cence,  freedom  from  guilt. 

At  tire',  clothing ;  raiment.  S  Med  i  ta'  tion,  contemplation. 

Un  con  cern'  ED  LT,  without  care.    \  Un  la  ment'  ed,  unmourned. 


Pon. 


292  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

ODE    ON    SOLITUOr* 

"Written  when  the  author  was  twelve  years  of  age. 

1.  Happy  the  man  whose  wish  and  care 

A  few  paternal  acres  bound, 

CJontent  to  breathe  his  native  air 

In  his  own  ground. 


2.  Whose  herds  with  milk,  whose  fields  with  bread, 

Whose  flocks  supply  him  with  attire  ; 
Whose  trees  in  summer  yield  him  shade, 
In  winter  fire. 

3.  Blest  who  can  unconcernedly  find 

Hours,  days,  and  years  glide  soft  away, 
In  health  of  body,  peace  of  mind. 
Quiet  by  day. 

4.  Sound  sleep  by  night ;  study  and  ease, 

Together  mixed ;  sweet  recreation ; 
And  innocence,  which  most  doth  please 
With  meditation. 

5.  Thus  let  me  live,  unseen,  unknown ; 

Thus  unlamented  let  me  die ; 
Steal  from  the  world,  and  not  a  stono 
Tell  where  I  lie. 

Questions. — 1.  Who,  did  the  writer  think,  were  happy?  2.  How  did 
he  wish  to  live  and  die?  3.  Analyze  th©  word  recreation,  (re,  hcLck;  crea- 
tion, aoi  of  bringing  into  life ;)  act  of  bringing  back  to  life ;  a  reviving. 


SUMUEA    FOUlt.  293 

LESSON    LXXXV. 

Ad  mi  ra'  tion,  esteem.  j  In  trin'  sic  al  ly,  really ;  truly. 

Fra  ter'  nal,   brotherly.  j  Ap  pre'  ciate,  value  ;  esteem. 
In  sig  nif'  i  cance,  worthlessness.        Br4WN,  physical  strength. 

Crit'ical,   perilous.  \  Pin' na  cle,  summit;  highest  point. 

Thor'  odgh  ly,  completely ;  fully.  \  Sin'  u  ous,  winding ;  bending. 
Coji  PRE  hend',   understand.  Le  git'  i  mate,  lawful. 

Con  vie'  tion,   strong  belief.  |  Req'  n  $ite,  necessary. 
Com  pe  ti"  tion,  strife ;  rivalry.  Con  ser  va/  tion,  act  of  keeping. 

Em  u  la'  tion,  competition.  (  De  vel'  op  ment,  training. 

GETTING  THE  RIGHT  START* 

J.  Gr.  Holland. 

1.  The  first  great  lesson  a  young  man  should  learn,  is, 
that  he  kfioivs  nothing;  and  that  the  earlier  and  more 
thoroughly  this  lesson  is  learned,  the  better  it  will  be  for  his 
peace  of  mind,  and  his  success  in  life.  A  young  man  bred 
at  home,  and  growing  up  in  the  light  of  parental  admiration 
and  fraternal  pride,  can  not  readily  understand  how  it  is, 
that  every  one  else  can  be  his  equal  in  talent  and  acquisition. 
If  bred  in  the  country,  he  seeks  the  life  of  the  town,  he 
will  very  early  obtain  an  idea  of  his  insignificance. 

2.  This  is  a  critical  period  in  his  history.  The  result  of 
his  reasoning  will  decide  his  fate.  If,  at  this  time,  he  thor- 
oughly comprehend,  and  in  his  soul  admit  and  accept  the 
fact,  that  he  knows  nothing  and  is  nothing  ;  if  he  bow  to 
the  conviction  that  his  mind  and  his  person  are  but  ciphers, 
and  that  whatever  he  is  to  be,  and  is  to  wifi,  must  be 
achieved  by  hard  luork.  there  is  abundant  hope  of  him. 

3.  If,  on  the  contrary,  a  huge  self-conceit  still  hold  pos- 
session of  him,  and  he  straighten  stiffly  up  to  the  assertion 
of  his  old  and  valueless  self, — or,  if  he  sink  discouraged 
upon  the  threshold  of  a  life  of  fierce  competitions,  and  more 
manly  emulations,  he  might  as  well  be  a  dead  man.     The 


294  SANDERS'    UJVION    SERIES. 

■world  has  no  use  for  such  a  man,  and  he  has  only  to  retire 
or  be  trodden  upon. 

4.  When  a  young  man  has  thoroughly  comprehended  the 
fact  that  he  knows  7iothing^  and  that,  intrinsically,  he  is  of 
but  little  value^  the  next  thing  for  him  to  learn  is  that  the 
world  cares  nothing  for  him, — that  he  is  the  subject  of  no 
man's  overwhelming  admiration  and  esteem, — ^that  he  must 
take  care  of  himself. 

5.  If  he  be  a  stranger,  he  will  find  every  man  busy  with 
bis  own  affairs,  and  none  to  look  after  him.  He  will  not  be 
noticed  until  he  becomes  noticeable,  and  he  will  not  become 
noticeable,  until  he  does  something  to  prove  that  he  has  an 
absolute  value  in  society.  No  letter  of  recommendation  will 
give  him  this,  or  ought  to  give  him  this.  ]N"o  family  con- 
nection will  give  him  this,  except  among  those  few  who 
think  more  of  blood  than  brains. 

6.  Society  demands  that  a  young  man  shall  he  somebody, 
not  only,  but  that  Jie  shall  prove  his  right  to  the  title  ;  and 
it  has  a  right  to  demand  this.  Society  will  not  take  this 
matter  upon  trust, — at  least,  not  for  a  long  time ;  for  it  has 
been  cheated  too  frequently.  Society  is  not  very  particular 
what  a  man  does,  so  that  it  prove  him  to  be  a  man  :  then  it 
will  bow  to  him,  and  make  room  for  him. 

7.  There  is  no  surer  sign  of  an  unmanly  and  cowardly 
spirit,  than  a  vague  desire  for  help, — a  wish  to  depend,  to 
lean  upon  somebody,  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  the  industry  of 
others.  There  are  multitudes  of  young  men  who  indulge  in 
dreams  of  help  from  some  quarter,  coming  in  at  a  convenient 
moment,  to  enable  them  to  secure  the  success  in  life  which 
they  covet.  The  vision  haunts  them  of  some  benevolent  old 
gentleman,  with  a  pocket  full  of  money,  a  trunk  full  of 
mortgages  and  stocks,  and  a  mind  remarkably  appreciative 
of  merit  and  genius,  who  will,  perhaps,  give  or  lend  them 


IVUMBER    FOUR.  295 

from  ten  to  twenty  thousand  dollars,  with  which  they  -will 
commence  and  go  on  swimmingly. 

8.  To  me,  one  of  the  most  disgusting  sights  in  the  world, 
13  that  of  a  young  man  with  healthy  blood,  broad  shoulders, 
and  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  more  or  less,  of  good  bone 
and  muscle,  standing  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  longing 
for  help.  I  admit  that  there  are  positions  in  which  the  mo?fc, 
independent  spirit  may  accept  of  assistance, — may,  in  fact, 
as  a  choice  of  evils,  desire  it ;  but  for  a  man  who  is  able  to 
help  himself,  to  desire  the  help  of  others  in  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  plans  of  life,  is  positive  proof  that  he  has  re- 
ceived a  most  unfortunate  training,  or  that  there  is  a  leaven 
of  meanness  in  his  composition,  that  should  make  him  shudder. 

9.  When,  therefore,  a  young  man  has  ascertained  and  fully 
received  the  fact  that  he  does  not  know  any  thing,  that  the 
world  does  not  care  any  thing  about  him,  that  what  he  wins 
must  be  won  by  his  own  brain  and  brawn,  and  that  while  he 
holds  in  his  own  hands  the  means  of  gaining  his  own  liveli- 
hood and  the  objects  of  his  life,  he  can  not  receive  assistance 
without  compromising  his  self-respect  and  selling  his  freedom, 
he  is  in  a  fair  position  for  beginning  life.  When  a  young 
man  becomes  aware  that  only  by  his  own  efforts  can  he  rise 
into  companionship  and  competition  with  the  sharp,  strong, 
and  well-drilled  minds  around  him,  he  is  ready  for  work, 
and  not  before. 

10.  The  next  lesson  is,  that  of  patience^  thoroughness  of 
preparation,  and  contentment  with  the  regular  channels  of 
business  effort  and  enterprise.  This  is,  perhaps,  one  of  the 
most  difl&cult  to  learn,  of  all  the  lessons  of  life.  It  is  natu- 
ral for  the  mind  to  reach  out  eagerly  for  immediate  results. 

11.  As  manhood  dawns,  and  the  young  man  catches  in 
its  first  light  the  pinnacles  of  realized  dreams,  the  golden 
domes  of  high  possibilities,  and  the  purpling  hills  of  great 


296  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

delights,  and  then  looks  down  upon  the  narrow,  sinuous, 
long,  and  dusty  path  by  which  others  have  reached  them,  he 
is  apt  to  be  disgusted  with  the  passage,  and  to  seek  for  suc- 
cess through  broader  channels,  by  quicker  means.  Begin- 
ning at  the  very  foot  of  the  hill,  and  working  slowly  to  the 
top,  seems  a  very  discouraging  process ;  and  precisely  at  this 
point,  have  thousands  of  young  men  made  shipwreck  of 
their  lives. 

12.  Let  this  be  understood,  then,  at  starting ;  that  the 
patient  conquest  of  difficulties,  which  rise  in  the  regular  and 
legitimate  channels  of  business  and  enterprise,  is  not  only 
essential  in  securing  the  successes  which  you  seek,  but  it  is 
essential  to  that  preparation  of  your  mind,  requisite  for  the 
enjoyment  of  your  successes,  and  for  retaining  them  "tvhen 
gained.  It  is  the  general  rule  of  Providence,  the  world 
over,  and  in  all  time,  that  unearned  success  is  a  curse.  It 
is  the  rule  of  Providence,  that  the  process  of  earning  success, 
shall  be  the  preparation  for  its  conservation  and  enjoyment. 

13.  So,  day  by  day,  and  week  by  week ,  so,  month  after 
month,  and  year  after  year,  work  on^  and  in  that  process 
gain  strength  and  symmetry,  and  nerve  and  knowledge,  that 
when  success,  patiently  and  bravely  worked  for,  shall  come, 
it  may  find  you  prepared  to  receive  it  and  keep  it.  The 
development  which  you  will  get  in  this  brave  and  patient 
labor,  will  prove  itself,  in  the  end,  the  most  valuable  of  your 
successes.  It  will  help  to  make  a  man  of  you.  It  will 
give  you  power  and  self-reliance.  It  will  give  you  not  only 
self-respect^  but  the  respect  of  your  fellows  and  tht 
public. 

QuEsnoNS. — 1.  What  is  the  first  lesson  a  young  man  should  learn?  2. 
What  IS  the  next  lesson  he  should  learn?  3.  What  does  society  demand  of 
a  young  man  ?  4,  What  is  a  sure  sign  of  an  unmanly  and  cowardly  spirit  ? 
5.  When  is  a  young  man  in  a  fair  position  for  beginmng  life  ?  6.  What  is  a 
general  rule  of  Providence  ? 


NUMBER    FOUR.  297 


LESSON    LXXXVI. 


Pee  $ump'  tion,  arrogance.  ^  Dis  suade',  turn  away  from. 

Soph'  ists,  professed  teachers  of  wis-  j  Ex  cess'  ive,  overmuch. 
Ac  cost'  ed,  addressed.  [dom.  \  Es  teem'  ed,  highly  regarded. 

Gen'  ius,  natural  aptitude.  >  Re  trench',  lessen  ;  curtail,     [less. 

In  duc'  ed,  prevailed  upon.  s  Su  per'  flu  ous,  extravagant ;  need- 

Phi  los'  0  PHER^  lover  of  wisdom.     I  Un  der  tak'  ing,  engaging  in. 
tBAR'  BA  ROUS,  foreign ;  uncivilized,    'i  In  ca  pac'  i  ty,  inability. 

'  The  mis'  to  cle$,  a  celebrated  Athenian  statesman  and  military  leader, 
was  born  about  514  before  Christ. 

'  Ci'  MON,  an  illustrious  Athenian  general  and  statesman,  born  about  the 
year  510,  before  Christ.  He  belonged  to  the  aristocratic  party  of  his  time, 
and  contributed  to  the  banishment  of  Themistocles,  the  leader  of  the  oppo- 
site party.     He  was  also  the  political  opponent  of  Pericles. 

*  Per'  I  cle$,  an  Athenian  statesman,  born  about  495  before  Christ.  He 
labored  to  make  Athens  the  capital  of  all  Greece,  and  the  seat  of  art  and 
refinement. 

*  Pla'  to,  a  celebrated  Greek  philosopher,  born  in  Athens  about  the  year 
429  before  Christ.    He  was  a  pupil  of  Socrates,  for  note  on  whom,  see  p.  138. 


THE    PRESUMPTION    OF    YOUTH. 

EOLLIN. 

1.  The  young  people  of  Athens,  amazed  at  the  glory  of 
Themistocles/  of  Cimon,''  of  Pericles/  and  full  of  a  foolish 
ambition,  after  having  received  some  lessons  from  the  soph- 
ists, who  promised  to  render  them  very  great  politicians, 
believed  themselves  capable  of  every  thing,  and  aspired  to 
fill  the  highest  places.  One  of  them,  named  Glaucon,  took 
it  so  strongly  in  head  that  he  had  a  peculiar  genius  for 
public  affairs,  although  he  was  not  yet  twenty  years  of  age, 
that  no  person  in  his  family,  nor  among  his  friends,  had  the 
power  to  divert  him  from  a  notion  so  little  befitting  his  ago 
and  capacity 

2.  Socrates,  who  liked  him  on  account  of  Plato*  his 
brother,  wa«  the  only  one  who  succeeded  in  making  him 

4  U  18* 


298  SANDERS'    U]SriON    SERIES. 

change  his  resolution.  Meeting  him  one  daj,  he  accosted 
him  with  so  dexterous  a  discourse,  that  he  induced  him  to 
listen.  He  had  already  gained  much  influence  over  him. 
''You  have  a  desire  to  govern  the  republic  T'  said  Socrates. 
"True,"  replied  Glaucon.  "You  can  not  have  a  finer 
design,"  said  the  philosopher,  "since,  if  you  succeed  in  it^ 
you  will  be  in  a  state  to  serve  your  friends,  to  enlarge  your 
house,  and  to  extend  the  limits  of  your  native  country. 

3.  "You  will  become  known  not  only  in  Athens,  but 
through  all  Greece ;  and  it  may  be  that  your  renown  will 
reach  even  to  the  barbarous  nations,  like  that  of  Themisto- 
cles.  At  last,  you  will  gain  the  respect  and  admiration  of 
everybody."  A  beginning  so  flattering  pleased  the  young 
man  exceedingly,  and  he  very  willmgly  continued  the  con- 
versation. "Since  you  desire  to  make  yourself  esteemed 
and  respected,  it  is  clear  that  you  think  to  render  yourself 
useful  to  the  public."  "  Assuredly."  "  Tell  me,  then,  I 
beseech  you,  what  is  the  first  service  that  you  intend  to  ren- 
der the  state  ?" 

4.  As  Glaucon  appeared  to  be  perplexed,  and  considered 
what  he  ought  to  answer, — "Probably,"  replied  Socrates, 
"it  will  be  to  enrich  the  republic,  that  is  to  say,  to  increase 
its  revenues."  "Exactly  so."  "And,  undoubtedly,  you 
know  in  what  the  revenues  of  the  state  consist,  and  the  ex- 
tent to  which  they  may  be  increased.  You  will  not  have 
failed  to  make  it  a  private  study,  to  the  end  that  if  one 
source  should  suddenly  fail,  you  may  be  able  to  supply  its 
place  immediately  with  another."  "I  assure  you,"  answered 
Glaucon,  "  that  this  is  what  I  have  never  thought  of." 

5.  "  Tell  me,  at  least,  then,  the  necessary  expenses  of 
maintaining  the  republic.  You  can  not  fail  to  know  of 
what  importance  it  is  to  retrench  those  which  are  super- 
fluous."    "I  confess  to  you  that  I  am  not  more  instructed 


NUMBER    FOUR.  299 

with  regard  to  this  article  than  the  other."  "  Then  it  is 
necessary  to  defer  till  another  time  the  design  that  you  liave 
of  enriching  the  republic ;  for  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  ben- 
efit the  state  while  you  are  ignorant  of  its  revenues  and 
expenses." 

6.  "But,"  said  Glaucon,  "there  is  still  another  means 
that  you  pass  over  in  silence, — one  can  enrich  a  state  by  the 
ruin  of  its  enemies."  "You  are  right,"  replied  Socrates; 
"  but,  in  order  to  do  that,  you  must  be  the  more  powerful; 
otherwise  you  run  the  risk  of  losing  that  which  you  possess. 
So,  he  who  speaks  of  undertaking  a  war,  ought  to  know  the 
power  of  both  parties,  to  the  end  that  if  he  finds  his  party 
the  stronger,  he  may  boldly  risk  the  adventure ;  but,  if  he 
find  it  the  weaker,  he  should  dissuade  the  people  from  under- 
taking it. 

7.  "  But,  do  you  know  what  are  the  forces  of  our  republic, 
by  sea  and  by  land,  and  what  are  those  of  our  enemies'  ?  have 
you  a  statement  of  them  in  writing'  ?  You  will  do  me  the 
pleasure  to  allow  me  a  perusal  of  it."  "I  have  none  yet," 
replied  Glaucon.  "  I  see,  then,"  said  Soc^tes,  "  that  we 
shall  not  make  war  so  soon,  if  they  intrust  you  with  the 
government;  for  there  remain  many  things  for  you  to  know, 
and  many  cares  to  take." 

8.  The  sage  mentioned  many  other  articles,  not  less  im- 
portant, in  which  he  found  Glaucon  equally  inexperienced, 
and  he  pointed  out  how  ridiculous  they  render  themselves, 
who  have  the  rashness  to  intermeddle  with  government,  with- 
out bringing  any  other  preparation  to  the  task  than  a  great 
degree  of  self-esteem  and  excessive  ainbition.  "  Fear,  my 
dear  Glaucon,"  said  Socrates,  "  fear,  lest  a  too  ardent  desire 
for  honors  should  blind  you  ;  and  cause  you  to  take  a  part 
that  would  cover  you  with  shame,  in  bringing  to  light  your 
incapacity,  and  want  of  talent." 


800 


SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 


9.  The  youth  was  wise  enough  to  profit  by  the  good  advice 
of  his  instructor,  and  took  some  time  to  gain  private  infor- 
mation, before  he  ventured  to  appear  in  public.  This  lesson 
is  for  all  ages. 

Questions. — 1.  To  what  did  the  young  people  of  Athens  aspire  ?  2. 
"What  did  Glaucon  beUeve  he  possessed?  3.  "Who  succeeded  in  making 
him  change  his  resolution ?  4.  How  did  Socrates  do  this?  5.  "What  did 
Socrates  finally  say  to  him? 

LESSON    LXXXVII. 


Crest,  topmost  hight. 

Tor'  rents,  rushing  streams. 

Type,  symbol;  token. 

Ae'  rie,  {d'  ry,)  eagle's  nest. 

Yault'ed,  arched. 

Liq'uid,  {lik'wid,)  clear;  flowing. 

Bask,  lie  exposed  to  warmth. 

Can'  0  PY,  covering. 

Rev'  el  ry,  noisy  merriment. 

Bide,  stay;  continue. 


Yo  Lup'  TU  ous,  devoted  to  pleasura 
Haunts,  places  of  resort. 
Ex  piRE$',  dies ;  becomes  extinct. 
Smol'  der  ing,  burning  and  smok- 
ing without  vent. 
Her'  it  age,  inheritance. 
Quench'  ed,  extinguished. 
Pen'  NGN,  flag  ;  banner. 
"Wrench,  wrest ;  twist  off. 
Cra'  ven,  base ;  cowardly. 


SONG  OF  THE  AMERICAN  EAGLE* 

1.  I  BUILD  my  nest  on  the  mountain's  crest, 

Where  the  wild  winds  rock  my  eaglets  to  rest, — 
Where  the  lightnings  flash,  and  the  thunders  crash, 
And  the  roaring  torrents  foam  and  dash  ; 
For  my  spirit  free  henceforth  shall  be 
A  type  of  the  sons  of  Liberty. 


2.  Aloft  I  fly  from  my  aerie  high, 

Through  the  vaulted  dome  of  the  azure  aky ; 


NUMBER    FOUR.  gQl 

On  a  sunbeam  bright  take  my  airy  flight, 
And  float  in  a  flood  of  liquid  light ; 
For  I  love  to  play  in  the  noontide  ray, 
And  bask  in  a  blaze  from  the  throne  of  day. 

3.  Away  I  spring  with  a  tireless  wing, 
On  a  feathery  cloud  I  poise  and  swing ; 

I  dart  down  the  steep  where  the  lightnings  leap, 
And  the  clear,  blue  canopy  swiftly  sweep ; 
For,  dear  to  me  is  the  revelry 
Of  a  free  and  fearless  Liberty. 

4.  I  love  the  land  where  the  mountains  stand. 
Like  the  watch-towers  high  of  a  Patriot  band ; 
For  I  may  not  bide  in  my  glory  and  pride. 
Though  the  land  be  never  so  fair  and  wide, 
Where  Luxury  reigns  o'er  voluptuous  plains. 
And  fetters  the  free-born  soul  in  chains. 

5.  Then  give  to  me  in  my  flights  to  see 
The  land  of  the  pilgrims  ever  free  I 

And  I  never  will  rove  from  the  haunts  I  love. 
But  watch,  from  my  sentinel-track  above. 
Your  banner  free,  o'er  land  and  sea. 
And  exult  in  your  glorious  Liberty. 

6.  O,  guard  ye  well  the  land  where  I  dwell, 
Lfest  to  future  times  the  tale  I  tell, 
When  slow  expires  in  smoldering  fires 
The  goodly  heritage  of  your  sires, — 
How  Freedom's  light  rose  clear  and  bright 
O'er  fair  Columbia's  beacon-hight. 

Till  ye  quenched  the  fl^me  in  a  starless  night. 


302  SANDERS'    UNIOrf    SERIES. 

7.  Then  will  I  tear  from  your  pennon  fair 
The  stars  ye  have  set  in  triumph  there ; 
My  olive-brancli  on  the  blast  I'll  launch, 
The  fluttering  stripes  from  the  flagstaff  wrench, 
And  away  I'll  flee ;  for  I  scorn  to  see 
A  craven  race  in  the  land  of  the  free  ! 

Questions. — 1.  "Where  does  the  eagle  build  its  nest?  2.  Describe  its 
flights.  3.  Where  does  it  love  to  dwell  ?  4.  Of  what  is  the  eagie  a  type  ? 
5.  What  warning  does  it  give  to  the  people  of  this  country  ?  6.  What  is 
there  peculiar  in  the  construction  of  the  firsts  third,  and  mth  lines  of  each 
verse  ? 


LESSON    LXXXVIII. 

%.^'  THEM,  ode ;  song.  (  TJ'  Ni  verse,  whole  creation. 

Daunt'  less,  bold ;  fearless.  \  Baf'  fled,  frustrated. 

Wag  ED,  carried  on.  j  Ty  ran'  nic,  oppressive ;  despotic. 

Un  4w'  ED,   undismayed.  \  Curb,  check ;  restrain. 

Scroll,  roll  of  paper ;  document.      I  Sue  geed'  iNa,  following. 

Count'  less,   unnumbered.  >  Hurl'  ed,  thrown. 

Roy'  al,  regal ;  noble.  >  Peal'  ed,  resounded. 

^  Hel'  les  PONT,  now  the  Dardanelles,  a  narrow  strait  between  Asia  and 
Europe. 

'  Xer'  xes,  {zerJcs'  ees,}  the  celebrated  king  of  Persia,  during  his  famous 
expedition  into  Glreece,  caused  two  bridges  to  be  thrown  over  the  Helles- 
pont; but  the  work  was  not  strong  enough  to  resist  a  violent  storm  which 
broke  it  to  pieces,  soon  after  it  was  finished.  This  was  about  the  year  480 
before  Christ. 

THE    ARMY    OF    REFORM* 

Sakah  Jaxe  Lippincott. 

1.  Yes,  ye  are  few, — and  they  were  few  ^ 
Who,  daring  storm  and  sea, 
Once  raised  upon  old  Plymouth  rock 
*' The  anthem  of  the  free." 


NUMBER    FOUR.  3Q3 

2.  And  they  were  few  at  Lexington, 

To  battle,  or  to  die, — 
That  lightning-flash,  that  thunder-peal, 
Told  that  the  storm  was  nigh. 

3.  And  they  were  few^  who  dauntless  stood, 
^    Upon  old  Bunker' shight, 

And  waged  with  Britain's  strength  and  pride 
The  fierce,  unequal  fight. 

4.  And  they  were  few,  who,  all  unawed 

Bj  kingly  "  rights  divine," 
The  Declaration,  rebel  scroll  ;* 
Untrembling  dared  to  sign. 

5.  Yes,  ye  are  few  ;  for  one  proud  glance 

Can  take  in  all  your  band, 
Aa  now  against  a  countless  host, 
Firm,  true,  and  calm,  ye  stand. 

6.  Unmoved  by  Folly's  idiot  laugh. 

Hate's  curse,  or  Envy's  frown, — 
Wearing  your  rights  as  royal  robes. 
Your  manhood  as  a  crown, — 

7.  With  eyes  whose  gaze,  unvailed  by  mists. 

Still  rises,  clearer,  higher, — 
With  stainless  hands,  and  lips  that  Truth 
Hath  touched  with  living  fire, — 


*  The  reference  is  to  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  made  July  4th, 


304  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

8.  With  one  high  hope,  that  ever  shines 

Before  jou  as  a  star, — 
One  prayer  of  faith,  one  fount  of  strength, 
A  glorious  few  ye  are  ! 

9.  Ye  dare  not  fear,  je  can  not  fail, 

Your  destiny  ye  bind 
To  that  sublime,  eternal  law  * 

That  rules  the  march  of  mind. 

10.  See  yon  bold  eagle  toward  the  sun 

Now  rising  free  and  strong, 
And  see  yon  mighty  river  roll 
Its  soundinor  tide  along  ! 

11.  Ah  !  yet  near  earth  the  eagle  tires. 

Lost  in  the  sea,  the  river  ; 
But  naught  can  stay  the  human  mindj — 
'  Tis  upward,  onward,  ever  ! 

12.  It  yet  shall  tread  the  starlit  paths, 

By  highest  angels  trod, 
And  pause  but  at  the  farthest  world 
In  the  universe  of  God. 

13.  'Tis  said  that  Persia's  baffled  king, 

In  mad,  tyrannic  pride, 
Cast  fetters  on  the  Hellespont,' 
To  curb  its  swelling  tide  : 

14.  But  freedom's  own  true  spirit  heaves 

The  bosom  of  the  main; 
It  tossed  those  fetters  to  the  skies, 
And  bounded  on  again ! 


NUMBER    FOUR.  3Q5 

15.  The  scorn  of  each  succeeding  age 

On  Xerxes' '  head  was  hurled, 
And  o'er  that  foolish  deed  has  pealed 

The  long  laugh  of  a  world.  ! 

16.  Thus,  thus,  defeat,  and  scorn,  and  shame, 

Is  his^  who  strives  to  bind 
The  7^estless,  leaping  ivaves  of  thought^ 
The  free  tide  of  the  mind. 

Questions. — 1.  Who  raised  the  anthem  of  the  free  on  Plymouth  Rock  ? 
2.  What  is  said  of  the  few  on  Bunker's  Hight  ?  3,  How  many  signed  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  ?  Ans.  56.  4.  What  is  said  of  the  eagle  ?  5. 
Of  the  human  mind  ?     6.  Of  Freedom  ?     T.  Where  is  the  Hellespont  ? 

LESSON    LXXXIX. 

Fresh'  en  ed,  grew  brisk  or  strong,  j  De  vot'  ed,  doomed ;  ill-fated. 

Fit'  ful  ly,  at  intervals.  Thwarts,  seats  placed  across  a  boat 

In  di  ca'  tion,  sign ;  token.  Guar'  an  ty,  warrant. 

En  thu'  $i  a$m,  strong  feeling.  In  ev'  i  ta  bly,  certainly  ;  surely. 

Ap  pre  hend'  ing,  fearing.  Ac  cu'  mu  la  ted,  collected ;  heaped. 

A  ban' DON,  give  up;  forsake.  |  Stan'chion,  (stow' s/iww,)  small  post. 

Haw'  ser$,  cables ;  large  ropes.  \  Yi'  ed,  strove ;  contended. 

Vol  UN  teer'  ed,  offered  willingly,  j  Dis'lo  gated,  out  of  joint;  disjointed. 

In'terval,  intervening  time.  i  Am'putated,  cutoff. 

THE  LAST   CRUISE  OF  THE  MONITOR* 

Gkeitvi^le  M.  Wei:j»%. 

1.  On  the  afternoon  of  December  29th,  1862,  she  put  on 
steam,  and,  in  tow  of  the  "Rhode  Island,"  passed  Fortress 
Monroe,  and  out  to  sea.  As  we  gradually  passed  out,  the 
wind  freshened  somewhat ;  but  the  sun  went  down  in  glo- 
rious clouds  of  purple  and  crimson,  and  the  night  was  fair 


306  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

and  calm  above  us,  though,  in  the  interior  of  our  little  ves- 
sel, the  air  had  already  begun  to  lose  its  freshness.  We  suf- 
fered more  or  less  from  its  closeness  through  the  night,  and 
woke  in  the  morning  to  find  it  heavy  with  impurity,  from 
the  breaths  of  some  sixty  persons,  composing  the  officers  and 
crew. 

2.  Sunshine  found  us  on  deck,  enjoying  pure  air^  and 
watching  the  east.  During  the  night  we  had  passed  Cap3 
Henry,  and  now,  at  dawn,  found  ourselves  on  the  ocean, — 
the  land  only  a  blue  line  in  the  distance.  A  few  more  hours, 
and  that  had  vanished.  No  sails  were  visible;  and  the 
Passaic,  which  we  had  noticed  the  evening  before,  was  now 
out  of  sight.  The  morning  and  afternoon  passed  quietly ;  wo 
spent  most  of  our  time  on  deck,  on  account  of  the  confined 
air  below,  and,  being  on  a  level  with  the  sea,  with  the  spray 
dashing  over  us  occasionally,  amused  ourselves  with  noting 
its  shifting  hues  and  forms,  from  the  deep  green  of  the  first 
long  roll,  to  the  foam-crest  and  prismatic  tints  of  the  falling 
wave. 

3.  As  the  afternoon  advanced,  the  freshening  wind,  the 
thickening  clouds,  and  the  increasing  roll  of  the  sea,  gave 
those  most  accustomed  to  ordinary  ship-life,  some  new  expe- 
riences. Tiie  little  vessel  plunged  through  the  rising  waves, 
instead  of  riding  them,  and,  as  they  increased  in  violence,  lay, 
as  it  were,  under  their  Crests,  which  washed  over  her  contin- 
ually ;  so  that,  even  when  we  considered  ourselves  safe,  the 
appearance  was  that  of  a  vessel  sinking. 

4.  "I'd  rather  go  to  sea  in  a  diving-bell !"  said  one,  as 
the  waves  dashed  over  the  pilot-house,  and  the  little  craft 
seemed  buried  in  water.  ''Give  me  an  oyster-scow  !"  cried 
another, — "any  thing!  only  let  it  be  wood,  and  something 
that  will  float  over,  instead  of  2mder  the  water  !"  Still 
she  plunged  on;    and   about  6.30   p.m.,   we  made    Cape 


KrUMBER    FOUR  gQj 

Hatteras ;  in  half  an  hour  we  had  rounded  the  point.  A 
general  hurrah  went  up, — "Hurrah  for  the  first  iron-clad 
that  ever  rounded  Cape  Hatteras!  Hurrah  for  the  little 
boat  that  is  first  in  every  thing  !" 

5.  At  half-past  seven,  a  heavy  shower  fell,  lasting  about 
twenty  minutes.  At  this  time  the  gale  increased  ;  black, 
heavy  clouds  covered  the  sky,  through  which  the  moon  glit- 
tered fitfully,  allowing  us  to  see  in  the  dist;ince  a  long  line 
of  white,  plunging  foam  rushing  toward  us, — sure  indication, 
to  a  sailor's  eye,  of  a  stormy  time.  A  gloom  overhung 
every  thing ;  the  banks  of  cloud  seemed  to  settle  around  us  ; 
the  moan  of  the  ocean  grew  louder  and  more  fearful.  Still 
our  little  boat  pushed  doggedly  on  :  victorious  through  all, 
we  thought  that  here,  too,  she  would  conquer,  though  the 
beatincr  waves  sent  shudders  through  her  whole  frame. 

6.  An  hour  passed ;  the  air  below,  which  had  all  day 
been  increasing  in  closeness,  was  now  almost  stifling ;  but  our 
men  lost  no  courage.  Some  sang  as  they  worked  ;  and  the 
cadence  of  their  voices,  mingling  Avith  the  roar  of  waters, 
sounded  like  a  defiance  to  Ocean.  Some  stationed  them- 
selves on  top  of  the  turret,  and  a  general  enthusiasm  filled 
all  breasts,  as  huge  waves,  twenty  feet  high,  rose  up  on  all 
sides,  hung  suspended  for  a  moment  like  jaws  open  to 
devour,  and  then,  breaking,  gnashed  over  in  foam  from  side 
to  side. 

7.  Those  of  us  new  to  the  sea,  and  not  apprehending  our 
peril,  hurrahed  for  the  largest  wave  ;  but  the  captain  and 
one  or  two  others,  old  sailors,  knowing  its  power,  grew  mo- 
mentarily more  and  more  anxious,  feeling,  with  a  dread 
instinctive  to  the  sailor,  that,  in  case  of  extremity,  no  wreck 
yet  known  to  ocean,  could  be  so  hopeless  as  this.  Solid  iron 
from  keelson  to  turret-top,  clinging  to  any  thing  for  safety, 
if  the  ' '  Monitor' '  should  go  down,  would  only  insure  a  share 


308  SANDEKS'    UKIOX    SERIES. 

in  her  fate.     No  mast,  no  spar,  no  floating  thing,  to  meet 
the  outstretched  hand  in  the  last  moment. 

8.  The  sea  gathered  force  from  each  attack.  Thick  and 
fast  came  the  blows  on  the  iron  mail  of  the  "  Monitor,"  and 
still  the  brave  little  vessel  held  her  own,  until,  at  half-past 
eight,  the  engineer,  faithful  to  the  end,  reported  a  leak.  The 
pumps  were  instanily  set  in  motion,  and  we  watched  their 
progress  with  an  intense  interest.  She  had  seemed  to  us 
like  an  old-time  knight,  in  armor,  battling  against  fearful 
odds,  but  still  holding  his  ground.  We  who  watched,  when 
the  blow  came  which  made  the  strong  man  reel  and  the  life- 
blood  spout,  felt  our  hearts  faint  within  us ;  then,  again, 
ground  was  gained,  and  the  fight  went  on,  the  water  lower- 
ing somewhat  under  the  laboring  pumps. 

9.  From  nine  to  ten  it  kept  pace  with  them.  From  ten 
to  eleven  the  sea  increased  in  violence,  the  waves  now  dash- 
ing entirely  over  the  turret,  blinding  the  eyes,  and  causing 
quick  catchings  of  the  breath,  as  they  swept  against  us.  At 
ten  the  engineer  had  reported  the  leak  a^  gaining  on  us ;  at 
half-past  ten,  with  several  pumps  in  constant  motion,  one  of 
which  threw  out  three  thousand  gallons  a  minute,  the  water 
was  rising  rapidly,  and  nearing  the  fires.  When  these  were 
reached,  the  vessel's  doom  was  sealed ;  for,  with  their  ex- 
tinction, the  pumps  must  cease,  and  all  hope  of  keeping  the 

"Monitor"  above  water  more  than  an  hour  or  two,  expired. 

10.  Our  knight  had  received  his  death-blow,  and  lay 
struggling  and  helpless  under  the  power  of  a  stronger  than 
he.  A  consultation  was  held,  and,  not  without  a  conflict  of 
feeling,  it  was  decided  that  signals  of  distress  should  be  made. 
Ocean  claimed  our  little  vessel,  and  her  trembling  frame  and 
failing  fire  proved  she  would  soon  answer  his  call ;  yet  a 
pang  went  through  us,  as  we  thought  of  the  first  iron-clad 
lying  alone  at  the  bottom  of  this  stormy  sea,   her  guns 


NUMBER    FOUR.  3Q9 

silenced,  herself  a  useless  mass  of  metal.     Each  quiver  of 
her  strong  frame  seemed  to  plead  with  us  not  to  abandon  her. 

11.  The  work  she  had  done,  the  work  she  ivas  to  do,  rose 
before  us  :  might  there  not  be  a  possibility  of  saving  her  yet? 
Her  time  could  not  have  come  so  soon.  But  we  who  de- 
scended for  a  moment  to  the  cabin,  knew,  by  the  rising 
water  through  which  we  waded,  that  the  end  was  near. 
Small  time  was  there  for  regrets.  Rockets  were  thrown  up, 
and  answered  by  the  "Rhode  Island,"  whose  brave  men 
prepared  at  once  to  lower  boats,  though,  in  that  wild  sea,  it 
was  almost  madness. 

12.  The  "Monitor"  had  been  attached  to  the  "Rhode 
Island"  by  two  hawsers,  one  of  which  had  parted  at  about 
seven  p.m.  The  other  remained  firm ;  but  now  it  was 
necessary  it  should  be  cut.  How  was  that  possible,  when 
every  wave  Avashed  clean  over  the  deck  ?  What  man  could 
reach  it  alive  ?  "Who'll  cut  the  hawser?"  shouted  Cap- 
tain Bankhead.  Acting-master  Stodder  volunteered,  and 
was  followed  by  another.  Holding  by  one  hand  to  the  ropes 
at  her  side,  they  cut  through,  by  many  blows  of  the  hatchet, 
the  immense  rope  which  united  the  vessels.  Stodder  re- 
turned in  safety,  but  his  brave  companion  was  washed  over, 
and  went  down. 

13.  Meanwhile  the  boat  launched  from  the  "  Rhode 
Island,"  had  started,  manned  by  a  crew  of  picked  men.  A 
mere  heroic  impulse  could  not  have  accomplished  this  most 
noble  deed.  For  hours  they  had  watched  the  raging  sea. 
Their  captain  and  they  knew  the  danger ;  every  man  who 
entered  that  boat,  did  it  at  the  peril  of  his  life  ;  and  yet  all 
were  ready.  Are  not  such  acts  as  these  convincing  proofs 
of  the  divinity  of  human  nature'?  We  watched  her  with 
straining  eyes ;  for  few  thought  she  could  live  to  reach  us. 
She  neared  ]  we  were  sure  of  her,  thank  Heaven  I 


310  SABTDJERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

14.  In  this  interval,  the  cut  hawser  had  become  entangled 
in  the  paddle-wheel  of  the  "  Rhode  Island,"  and  she  drifted 
down  upon  us  ;  we,  not  knowing  this  fact,  supposed  her 
coming  to  our  assistance;  but  a  moment  undeceived  us. 
The  launch  sent  to  our  relief  was  now  between  us  and  her, 
— too  near  for  safety.  The  steamer  bore  swiftly  down,  stern 
first,  upon  our  starboard  quarter.  ^^Keep  off !  keep  offT 
we  cried,  and  then  first  saw  she  was  helpless. 

15.  Even  as  we  looked,  the  devoted  boat  was  caught 
between  the  steamer  and  the  iron-clad, — a  sharp  sound  of 
crushing  wood  was  heard, — thwarts,  oars,  and  splinters  flew 
in  air, — the  boat's  crew  leaped  to  the  "Monitor's  "deck. 
Death  stared  us  in  the  face ;  our  iron  prow  must  go  through 
the  Rhode  Island's  side, — and  then  an  end  to  all.  One 
awful  moment  we  held  our  breath, — then  the  hawser  was 
cleared, — the  steamer  moved  off,  as  it  were,  step  by  step, 
first  one,  then  another,  till  a  ship's  length  lay  between-us, 
and  then  we  breathed  freely. 

16.  But  the  boat ! — had  she  gone  to  the  bottom,  carrying 
brave  souls  with  her'  ?  No^ ;  there  she  lay,  beating  against 
our  iron  sides ;  but  still,  though  bruised  and  broken,  a  life- 
boat to  us.  There  was  no  hasty  scramble  for  life  when  it 
was  found  she  floated, — all  held  back.  The  men  kept  steady 
on  at  their  work  of  bailing, — only  those  leaving,  and  in  the 
order  named,  whom  the  captain  bade  save  themselves.  The^r 
descended  from  the  turret  to  the  deck  with  mingled  fear  and 
hope,  for  the  waves  tore  from  side  to  side,  and  the  coolest 
head  and  bravest  heart  could  not  guaranty  safety.  Some 
were  washed  over  as  they  left  the  turret,  and,  with  a  vain 
clutch  at  the  iron  deck,  a  wild  throwing  up  of  the  arms, 
went  down,  their  death-cry  ringing  in  the  ears  of  their  com- 
panions. 

17.  The  boat  sometimes  held  her  place  by  the  "  Monitor's '' 


NUMBER    FOUR.  311 

Bide,  then  was  dashed  hopelessly  out  of  reach,  rising  and 
falling  on  the  waves.  A  sailor  would  spring  from  the  deck 
to  reach  her,  to  be  seen  for  a  moment  in  mid-air,  and  then, 
as  she  rose,  fall  into  her.  So  she  gradually  filled  up ;  but 
some  poor  souls  who  sought  to  reach  her,  failed,  even  as  they 
touched  her  receding  sides,  and  went  down.  We  had  a  little 
messenger-boy,  the  special  charge  of  one  of  our  sailors,  and 
the  pet  of  all ;  he  must  inevitably  have  been  lost,  but  for  the 
care  of  his  adopted  father,  who,  holding  him  firmly  in  his 
arms,  escaped,  as  by  a  miracle,  being  washed  overboard,  but 
finally  succeeded  in  placing  him  safely  in  the  boat. 

18.  The  last  but  one  to  make  the  desperate  venture,  was 
the  surgeon ;  he  leaped  from  the  deck,  at  the  very  instant 
when  the  boat  was  being  swept  away  by  the  merciless  sea. 
Making  one  final  effort,  he  threw  his  body  forward  as  he 
fell,  striking  across  the  boat's  side  so  violently,  it  was  thought 
some  of  his  ribs  must  be  broken.  "  Haul  the  Doctor  in  f 
shouted  Lieutenant  Greene,  perhaps  remembering  how,  a 
little  time  back,  he  himself,  almost  gone  down  in  the  un- 
known sea,  had  been  "hauled  in"  by  a  quinine  rope  flung 
him  by  the  Doctor.  Stout  sailor-arms  pulled  him  in ;  one 
more  sprang  to  a  place  in  her,  and  the  boat,  now  full,  pushed 
off, — in  a  sinking  condition,  it  is  true,  but  still  bearing  hope 
with  her,  for  she  loas  vwod. 

19.  Over  the  waves  we  made  little  progress,  though  pull- 
ing for  life.  The  men  stuffed  their  pea-jackets  into  the  leaks, 
and  bailed  incessantly.  We  neared  the  "  Rhode  Island  ;"  but 
now  a  new  peril  appeared.  Right  down  upon  our  center, 
borne  by  the  might  of  the  rushing  water,  came  the  whale- 
boat  sent  to  rescue  others  from  the  iron-clad.  We  barely 
floated ;  if  she  struck  us  with  her  bows  full  on  us,  we  must 
go  to  the  bottom.  One  sprang,  and,  as  she  neared,  with  out- 
stretched arms,  met  and  turned  her  course.     She   passed 


312  SA^^DERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

against  us,  and  his  hand,  caught  between  the  two  boats,  was 
crushed,  and  the  arm,  wrenched  from  its  socket,  fell  a  help- 
less weight  against  his  side ;  but  life  remained.  We  were 
saved,  and  an  arm  was  a  small  price  to  paj  for  life. 

20.  We  reached  the  ''Rhode  Island;"  ropes  were  flung 
Over  her  side,  and  caught  with  a  death -grip.  Some  lost 
their  hold,  were  washed  away,  and  again  dragged  in  bj  t'le 
boat's  crew.  What  chance  had  one  whose  right  arm  hung  a 
dead  weight,  when  strong  men  with  their  two  hands,  went 
down  before  him  ?  He  caught  at  a  rope,  found  it  impossible 
to  save  himself  alone,  and  then  for  the  first  time  said, — "  I 
am  injured;  can  any  one  help  me  ?"  Ensign  Taylor,  at  the 
risk  of  his  own  life,  brought  the  rope  around  his  should,er 
in  such  a  way  that  it  could  not  slip,  and  he  was  drawn  up 
in  safety, 

21.  In  the  mean  time,  the  wliale-boat,  which  had  nearly 
caused  our  destruction,  had  reached  the  side  of  the  "  Mon- 
itor;" and  now  the  captain  said,  "  It  is  madness  to  remain 
here  longer  :  let  each  man  save  himself."  For  a  moment,  he 
descended  to  the  cabin  for  a  coat,  and  his  faithful  servant 
followed  to  secure  a  jewel-box,  containing  the  accumulated 
treasure  of  years.  A  sad,  sorry  sight  it-  was  !  In  the  heavy 
air  the  lamps  burned  dimly,  and  the  water,  waist-deep, 
splashed  sullenly  against  the  sides  of  the  wardroom.  One 
lingering  look,  and  he  left  the  "  Monitor's"  cabin  forever  ! 

22.  Time  was  precious ;  he  hastened  to  the  deck,  w^here, 
in  the  midst  of  a  terrible  sea,  Lieutenant  Greene  nobly  held 
his  post.  He  seized  the  rope  from  the  whale-boat,  wound  it 
about  an  iron  stanchion,  then  around  his  wrists,  and,  by  this 
means,  was  drawn  aboard  the  boat.  Thus,  one  by  one,  watch- 
ing their  time  between  the  waves,  the  men  filled  in,  and,  at 
last,  after  making  all  effort  for  others,  and  none  for  them- 
selves, Captain  Bankliead  and  Lieutenant  Greene  took  their 


ISrTTHBER    FOUR.  gjg 

places  in  the  boat.     The  gallant  Brown  pushed  off,  and  soon 
had  his  boat-load  safe  upon  the  "  Khode  Island's  "  deck. 

23.  Here  the  heartiest  and  most  tender  reception  met  us. 
Our  drenched  clothing  was  replaced  by  warm  and  drj  gar- 
ments, and  all  on  board  vied  with  each  other  in  acts  of  kind- 
ness. The  only  one  who  had  received  any  injury,  Surgeon 
Weeks,*  w^as  carefully  attended  to,  the  dislocated  arm  set, 
and  the  crushed  fingers  amputated,  by  the  gentlest  and  most 
considerate  of  surgeons.  Dr.  Webber,  of  the  "  Rhode  Island.'' 

24.  For  an  hour  or  more  we  watched,  from  the  deck  of 
the  steamer,  the  lonely  lightupon  th6"Monitor's''turrefs;a 
hundred  times  we  thought  it  gone  forever, — a  hundred  times 
it  reappeared,  till,  at  last,  about  two  o'clock,  Wednesday 
morning,  December  31st,  it  sank,  and  we  saw  it  no  more. 
An  actor  in  the  scenes  of  that  wild  night,  when  the  ^'  Mon- 
itor" went  down,  relates  the  story  of  her  iast  cruise.  Her 
work  is  now  over.  She  lies  a  hundred  fathoms  deep  under 
the  stormy  waters  off  Cape  Hatteras  ;  but  she  has  made  her- 
self a  name,  which  will  not  soon  be  forgotten  by  the  Amer- 
ican people. 

Questions. — 1.  "When  and  whero  was  the  Monitor  lost  ?  2.  "What  signal 
service  had  she  rendered  ?     3.  Who  was  the  writer  of  this  account  ? 

LESSON   XO. 

Re  spox  si  eil'  i  tie$,  obligations       5  "Wan'  ton  ly,  wastefully. 

La'  tent,  secret ;  hidden.  \  Sheen,  brightness. 

In  iq'  ui  ty,  wickedness.  \  Shim'  mer,  glitter ;  gleam. 

Ef  feci'  ite,  powerful ;  efficient        <  Re  ver'  sign,  future  possession. 

Reg'  ti  tude,  right.  \  In  sid'  i  ous,  crafty ;  deceitful 

Pen' e  TRA  tive,  entering;  piercing.  }  A  thw^vrt',  across. 


Mai/ ICE,  ill-will;  hatred.  <  Sus'tenange,  food;  support. 

Ciiiv'  al  ry,  heroism  ;  valor.  )  Im  po$'  ed,  laid  on  ;  assigned. 

*  The  writer  of  this  account, 
4U  U 


314  SANDERS'    UNION    SETIIES. 

DUTIES  AND   RESPONSIBIlcITIES  OF   WOMAN* 

Gail  Hamilton. 

1.  Oh,  if  this  latent  power  could  be  aroused !  If  woman 
would  shake  off  this  slumber,  and  put  on  her  strength,  her 
beautiful  garments,  how  would  she  go  forth  conquering  and 
to  conquer !  How  would  the  mountains  break  forth  into 
singing,  and  the  trees  of  the  field  clap  their  hands  !  How 
would  our  sin-stained  earth  arise  and  shine,  her  light  being 
come,  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  being  risen  upon  her  ! 

2.  One  can  not  do  the  world's  work ;  but  one  can  do  ones 
work.  You  may  not  be  able  to  turn  the  world  from  in- 
iquity ;  but  you  can,  at  leasts  keep  the  dust  and  rust  from 
gathering  on  your  own  soul.  If  you  can  not  be  directly  and 
actively  engaged  in  fighting  the  battle,  you  can,  at  least,- 
polish  your  armor  and  sharpen  your  weapons,  to  strike  an 
effective  blow  when  the  hour  comes.  You  can  stanch  the 
blood  of  him  who  has  been  wounded  in  the  fray, — bear  a 
cup  of  cold  water  to  the  thirsty  and  fainting, — give  help  to 
the  conquered,  and  smiles  to  the  victor. 

3.  You  can  gather  from  the  past  and  the  present  stores  of 
wisdom,  so  that,  when  the  future  demands  it,  you  may  bring 
forth  from  your  treasures  things  new  and  old.  Whatever  of 
bliss  the  "  Divinity  that  shapes  our  ends"  may  see  fit  to 
withhold  from  you,  you  are  but  very  little  lower  than  the 
angels,  so  long  as  you  have  the 

"  Godlike  power  to  do, — the  godlike  aim  to  know." 

4.  You  can  be  forming  habits  of  self-reliance,  sound  judg- 
ment, perseverance,  and  endurance,  which  may,  one  day, 
stand  you  in  good  stead.  You  can  so  train  yourself  to  right 
thinking  and  right  acting,  that  uprightness  shall  be  your 
nature,  truth  your  impulse.  His  head  is  seldom  far  wrong, 
whose  heart  is  always  xight.     We  bow  down  to  mental  great- 


NUMBER    FOUR.  g;J^g 

ness,  intellectual  strength,  and  they  are  divine  gifts;  but 
moral  rectitude  is  stronger  than  they.  It  is  irresistible, — 
always  in  the  end  triumphant. 

5.  There  is  in  (/oodness  a  penetrative  power  that  nothing 
can  withstand.  Cunning  and  malice  melt  away  before  its 
mild,  open,  steady  glance.  Not  alone  on  the  fields  where 
chivalry  charges  for  laurels,  with  helmet  and  breastplate  and 
lance  in  rest,  can  the  true  knight  exultingly  exclaim, 

"My  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten, 
Because  my  heart  is  pure  ;" 

but  wherever  man  meets  man,  wherever  there  is  a  prize  to 
be  won,  a  goal  to  be  reached.  Wealth,  and  rank,  and  beauty, 
may  form  a  brilliant  setting  to  the  diamond  ;  but  they  only 
expose  more  nakedly  the  false  glare  of  the  paste.  Only 
when  the  king's  daughter  is  all  glbrious  within,  is  it  fitting 
and  proper  that  her  clothing  should  be  of  wrought  gold. 

6.  From  the  great  and  good  of  all  ages  rings  out  the  same 
monotone.  The  high-priest  of  Nature,  the  calm-eyed  poet 
who  laid  ms  heart  so  close  to  hers,  that  they  seemed  to  throb 
in  one  pulsation,  yet  whose  ear  was  always  open  to  the  ''still 
Bad  music  of  humanity,"  has  given  us  the  promise  of  his 
life-long  wisdom  in  these  grand  words  : — 

"  True  dignity  abides  with  him  alone 
"Who,  in  the  silent  hour  of  inward  thought 
Can  still  suspect  and  still  revere  himself." 

7.  Through  the  din  of  twenty  rolling  centuries,  pierces 
the  sharp,  stern  voice  of  the  brave  old  Greek :  ^'Let  every 
man,  when  he  is  about  to  do  a  wicked  action,  above  all 
things  in  the  worlds  stand  in  awe  of  himself,  a?id  dread 
the  witness  within  himV  All  greatness,  and  all  glory,  all 
that  earth  haa  to  give,  all  that  Heaven  can  proffer,  lies  within 


316  SAISTDERS'    UNIOISr    SERIES. 

the  reach  of  the  lowliest  as  well  as  the  highest ;  for  He  who 
spake  as  never  man  spake,  has  siid  that  the  very  "  kingdom 
of  God  is  within  you." 

8.  Born  to  such  an  inheritance,  will  you  wantonly  cast  it 
away'  ?  With  such  a  goal  in  prospect,  will  you  suffer  your- 
self to  be  turned  aside  by  the  sheen  and  shimmer  of  tinsel 
fruit'?  With  earth  in  possession,  and  Heaven  in. reversion, 
will  you  go  sorrowing  and  downcast,  because  here  and  then 
a  pearl  or  ruby  fails  you'  ?  Nay,  rather  forgetting  those 
things  which  are  behind,  and  reaching  forth  unto  those  which 
are  before,  press  forward  ! 

9.  Discontent  and  murmuring  are  insidious  foes ;  trample 
them  under  your  feet.  Utter  no  complaint,  whatever  betide ; 
for  complaining  is  a  sign  of  weakness.  If  your  trouble  can 
be  helped,  help  it ;  if  not,  bear  it.  You  can  be  whatever 
you  will  to  be.  Therefore,  form  and  accomplish  worthy  pur- 
poses. 

10.  If  you  walk  alone,  let  it  be  with  no  faltering  tread. 
Show  to  an  incredulous  world 

"  How  grand  may  bo  Life's  might, 
"Without  Love's  circling  crown." 

Or,  if  the  golden  thread  of  love  shine  athwart  the  dusky 
warp  of  duty,  if  other  hearts  depend  on  yours  for  sustenance 
and  strength,  give  to  them  from  your  fullness  no  stinted 
measure.  Let  the  dew  of  your  kindness  fall  on  the  evil  and 
the  good,  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust. 

11.  Compass  happiness,  since  happiness  alone  is  victory. 
On  the  fragments  of  your  shattered  plans,  and  hopes,  and 
love, — on  the  heaped-up  ruins  of  your  past,  rear  a  stately 
palace,  whose  top  shall  reach  unto  heaven,  whose  beauty 
shall  gladden  the  eyes  of  all  beholders,  whose  doors  shall 
stand  wide  open  to  receive  the  way-worn  and  weary.     Life  is 


NUMBER    FOUR. 


817 


a  burden,  but  it  is  imposed  by  God.  What  you  make  of  it,  it 
will  be  to  you,  whether  a  millstone  about  your  neck,  or  a 
diadem  upon  your  brow.  Take  it  up  bravely ^  bear  it  on 
joyfully^  lay  it  down  ii^iumphantly. 

Questions. — 1.  What  are  some  of  the  duties  of  women  ?  2.  What  is 
eaid  of  goodness  ?  3.  What  was  the  adage  of  the  old  Greek  ?  4.  What  is 
said  of  discontent  and  murmuring  ? 

LESSON   XOI. 


Id'  I  OT,  one  devoid  of  reason. 

Hor'  ri  ble,  awful ;  dreadful. 

Woe'  ful,  afflicted. 

Har'  row,  disturb ;  harass. 

Pre  $erve'',  safely  keep. 

Sooth,  fact;  truth. 

Spoil'  ed,  stripped ;  plundered. 

Tearn'  ing,  longing. 

In  suf'  fer  a  ble,  intolerable. 


Pas'  time,  amusement;  diversion. 
Can'  ton,  district;  region. 
Es  pi'  ed,  saw ;  discovered. 
Mount  ain  eer',  dweller  on  a  mount- 
Br4Wn'  y,  strong ;  firm.  [ain. 

Fag'  ots,  bundles  of  sticks. 
Aug  ment',  increase ;  make  larger. 
Bea'  con,  signal-fire. 
Be  tide',  happen ;  befaU. 


SCENE    FROM    WILLIAM    TELL. 

J.  Shekidan  Kno-wlbi. 

Emma.  I  never  knew  a  weary  night  before  I 
I  have  seen  the  sun  a  dozen  times  go  down, 
And  still  no  William, — and  the  storm  was  on, 
Yet  have  I  laid  me  down  in  peace  to  sleep. 
The  mountain  with  the  lightning  all  a-blaze, 
And  shaking  with  the  thunder, — but  to-night 
Mine  eyes  refuse  to  close,     {si)  The  old  man  rests  : 
Pain  hath  outworn  itself,  and  turned  to  ease. 
How  deadly  calm's  the  night!    (")  What's  that?  I'm  grPwn 
An  idiot  with  my  fears.     I  do  not  know, — 


318  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES.  ♦ 

The  avalanche !     Great  Power  that  hurls  it  down, 
Watch  o'er  my  boj,  and  guide  his  little  steps ! 
What  keeps  him?  'tis  but  four  hours'  journey  hence: 
He'd  rest ;  then  foar  hours  back  again.     What  keeps  him  ? 
Erni  would  sure  be  found  by  him, — he  knows 
The  track,  well  as  he  knows  the  road  to  Altorf  1 

Melchtal.  Help  !   {i7i  his  sleep.) 

Emma.  What's  the  matter  ?    Only  the  old  man  dreaming : 
He  thinks  again  they're  pulling  out  his  eyes. 
I'm  sick  with  terror !     Merciful  powers  !  what's  this 
That  fills  my  heart  with  horrible  alarm  ? 
And  yet  it  can  not  see. 

Melch.  {waking.)  Where  am  I? 

Emma.  Father'  ! 

Melch.  My  daughter,  is  it  thou'?     Thank  Heaven,  I^m 
here  !     Is't  day  yet'  ? 

Emma.  No^ 

Melch.  Is't  far  on  the  night'  ? 

Emma.  Me  thinks,  about  the  turn  on 't. 

Melch.  Is  the  boy 
Come  back'  ? 

Emma.  No\  father'. 

Melch.  Nor  thy  husband'? 

Emma.  No\ 

Melch.  A  woeful  wife  and  mother  have  I  made  thee ! 
Would  thou  hadst  never  seen  me. 

Emma.  Father' I 

Melch.   Child'! 

Einma.  Methinks  I  hear  a  step  ! — I  do  I  {knocki7ig.)  A 
knock  ! 

Melch.  'Tis  William  I 

Emma.  No;  it  is  not  William's  knock.      {Opens   the 
door.)     I  told  you  so.     Your  will  ? 


NUMBER    FOUR. 


219 


Enter  Stranger. 

Stran.  Seeing  a  light, 
I  e'en  made  bold  to  knock,  to  ask  for  shelter ; 
For  I  have  missed  my  way. 

Emma.  Whence  come  you\  friend'  ? 

Sti^an.  From  Altorf. 

Emma.  Altorf!     Any  news  from  thence'? 

Stran.  Ay^ !     News  to  harrow  parents'  hearts,  and  make 
The  barren  bless  themselves  that  they  are  childless ! 

Emma.  May  Heaven  preserve  my  boy ! 

Melch.  What  say'st  thy  news  ? 

Stran.  Art  thou  not  Melchtal — he  whose  eyes,  'tis  said, 
The  tyrant  has  torn  out'  ? 

Melch.  Yes\  friend',  the  same. 

Stran.  Is  this  thy  cottage'  ? 

Melch.  No' ;  tis  William  Tell's. 

Stran.  'Tis  William  Toll's — and  that's  his  wife— Good- 

Emma.   (^Rushing  between  him,  and  the  door.)     [night. 
Thou  stirr'st  not  hence  until  thy  news  be  told ! 

Stran.  My  news  !  In  sooth  'tis  nothing  thou  wouldst  heed. 

Emma.  'Tis  something  none  should  heed  so  well  as  I ! 

Stran.  I  must  be  gone. 

Emma.  Thou  seest  a  tigress,  friend, 
Spoiled  of  her  mate  and  young,  and  yearning  for  them. 
Don' t  thwart  her !    Come,  thy  news  !  What  fear'  st  thou,  man  ? 
What  more  hath  she  to  dread,  who  reads  thy  looks. 
And  knows  the  most  has  come  ?    Thy  news !     Is't  bondage'  ? 

Stran.  It  is. 

Emma.  Thank  Heaven,  it  is  not  death  I     Of  one— 
Or  two  ? 

Stran.  Of  two. 

Emma.  A  father  and  a  son, 
Is't  not  ? 


320  SANDERS'    UNION    SEKIJES. 

Straji.   It  is. 

Emma.  My  husband  and  my  son 
Are  in  the  tyrant's  power  !     There's  worse  than  that  I 
What's  that  is  news  to»  harrow  parents'  breasts, 
The  which  the  thought  to  only  tell,  'twould  seem, 
Drives  back  the  blood  to  thine  ? — Thy  news,  I  say  I 
Wouldst  thou  be  merciful,  this  is  not  mercy ! 
Wast  thou  the  mark,  friend,  of  the  bowman's  aim, 
Wouldst  thou  not  have  the  fatal  arrow  speed, 
Rather  than  watch  it  hanging  in  the  string  ? 
Thou'lt  drive  me  mad  !     Let  fly  at  once  ! 

Melch.  Thy  news  from  Altorf,  friend,  whate'er  it  is  ! 

Slran.  To  save  himself  and  child  from  certain  death, 
Tell  is  to  hit  an  apple,  to  be  placed 
Upon  the  stripling's  head. 

Melch.  My  child !  my  child  ! 
Speak  to  me  !     Stranger,  has  thou  killed  her  ? 

Emma.  No ! 
No\  father'.     I'm  the  wife  of  William  Tell ; 
Oh,  but  to  be  a  man !  to  bive  an  arm 
To  fit  a  heart  swelling  with  the  sense  of  wrong  I 
Unnatural — insufferable  wrong  ! 
When  makes  the  tyrant  trial  of  his  skill  ? 

jStran,   To-morrow. 

Emma.   Spirit  of  the  lake  and  hill, 
Inspire  thy  daughter  !     On  the  head  of  him 
Who  makes  his  pastime  of  a  mother's  pangs. 
Launch  down  thy  vengeance  by  a  mother's  hand. 
Know'st  the  signal  when  the  hills  shall  rise'  ?  (  To  Melchtal.) 

Melch.  Are  they  to  rise'  ? 

Emma.  I  see  thou  knowest  naught. 

Stran.   Something's  on  foot !     'Twas  only  yesterday, 
That,  traveling  from  our  canton,  I  espied 


JfUMBER    FOUR.  322 

Slow  toiling  up  a  steep,  a  mountaineer 
Of  brawny  limb,  upon  bis  back  a  load 
Of  fagots  bound.     Curious  to  see  what  end 
Was  worthy  of  such  labor,  after  him 
I  took  the  cliff ;  and  saw  its  loft j  top 
Keceive  his  load,  which  went  but  to  augment 
A  pile  of  many  another. 

Emma.  'Tis  by  fire ! 
Fire  is  the  signal  for  the  bills  to  rise !     {Rushes  out.) 

Melch.  Went  she  not  forth  ? 

Stran.  She  did, — she's  here  again, 
And  brings  with  her  a  lighted  brand. 

Melch.  My  child, 
What  dost  thou  with  a  lighted  brand  ? 

{Re-enter  Emma  with  a  brands ) 

Emma.  Prepare 
To  give  the  signal  for  the  hills  to  rise ! 

Melch.  Wliere  are  the  fagots,  child,  for  such  a  blaze  ? 

^mma.  I'll  find  the  fagots,  father.     {^Exit.y 

Melch.  She's  gone 
Again  I 

Stran.  She  is, — I  think  iito  he"  chamber. 

Emma.   {Rushing  i?i.) — Father,  the  pile  is  fired  I 

Melch.  What  pile,  my  child  ? 

Emma.  The  joists  and  rafters  of  our  cottage^  father ! 

Melch.  Thou  hast  not  fired  thy  cottage?— but  thou  hast; 
Alas,  I  hear  the  crackling  of  the  flames  ! 

Emma.  Say'st  thou,  alas  !  when  I  do  say,  thank  Heaven, 
Father,  this  blaze  will  set  the  land  a-blaze 
With  fire  that  shall  preserve,  and  not  destroy  it. 
(/.)  Blaze  on  I  blaze  on  !     Oh,  may'st  thou  be  a  beacon 
To  light  its  sons  enslaved  to  liberty ! 
4U  U* 


g22  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

How  fast  it  spreads  !     A  spirit's  in  the  fire : 

It  knows  the  work  it  does. — {Goes  to  the  door,  and  opens  it.) 

The  land  is  free  ! 
Yonder' s  another  blaze  !     Bejond  that,  shoots 
Another  up  ! — Anon  will  everj  hill 
Redden  with  vengeance  !     Father,  come  1     Whate'er 
Betides  us,  worse  we're  certain  can't  befall. 
And  better  may !     Oh,  be  it  liberty, — 
Safe  hearts  and  homes,  husbands  and  children !     Come, — 
It  spreads  apace,     {ff.)  Blaze  on — blaze  on — blaze  on  ! 

Questions. — 1.  What  rule  for  the  rising  inflection  on  father  f    See  Note  L, 
page  32.     2.  "What  rule  for  the  falling  inflection  on  no  ?    See  rule  I.,  page  28. 


LESSON   XOII. 

HON^  OR  A  BLE,  noble ;  illustrious  J  So'  cial   familiarc 

In'  TEL  LECT,  mind ;  understanding.  \  Con  fd'  sign,  fuss ;  tumult      fence. 

Score,  account ;  motive.  i  Con  de  soen'  sign,  lowliness  ;  defer- 

Clev'er,  skillful;  expert.  )  Com  pre  hen' sign,  understanding. 

'  Crce'  sus,  a  very  -wealthy  king  of  ancient  Lydia,  in  Asia  Minor,  was 
bom  about  591  before  Christ 


THE   RICH  MAM  AND   THE  POOR  MAN* 

KnEMNlTZKB. 

1.  So  goes  the  world^ ; — if  wealthy,  you  may  call 

This — friend,  that — brother^; — friends  and  brothers  all 

Though  you  are  worthless,  witless,  — never  mind  it ; 
You  may  have  been  a  stable-boy, — what  then? 
'Tis  wealth  J  my  friends,  makes  honorable  men. 

You  seek  respect,  no  doubt,  and  you  will  find  it. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  323 

2.  But,  if  you  are  poor',  heaven  help  you^ !  though  your  sire 
Had  royal  blood  in  him\  and  though  you 
Possess  the  intellect  of  angels  too, 
'Tis  all  in  vain^ ; — the  world  will  ne'er  inquire 
On  such  a  score^  : — why  should  it  take  the  pains? 
'TJs  easier  to  weigh  purses\  sure,  than  brains'c 

8.  I  once  saw  a  poor  fellow,  keen  and  clever, 
Witty  and  wise^ ;  he  paid  a  man  a  visit, 
And  no  one  noticed  him',  and  no  one  ever 
Gave  him  a  welcome\   ' '  Strange^  "  cried  I V '  whence  is  it^  ?" 

He  walked  on  this  side',  then  on  that\ 

He  tried  to  introduce  a  social  chat"^ ; 
Now  here',  now  there\  in  vain  he  tried^ ; 
Some  formally  and  freezingly  replied. 
And  some  said  by  their  silence,  — "  Better  stay  at  home." 

4.  A  rich  man  burst  the  door, 

As  Croesus'  rich  ; — I'm  sure 
He  could  not  pride  himself  upon  his  wit^  ; 
And,  as  for  wisdom,  he  had  none  of  it^ ; 
He  had  what's  better\ — he  had  wealth. 

What  a  confusion  ! — all  stand  up  erect, — 
These  crowd  around  to  ask  him  of  his  health ; 

These  bow  in  honest  duty  and  respect; 
And  these  arrange  a  sofa  or  a  chair, 
And  these  conduct  him  there. 
"  Allow  me,  sir,  the  honor^ ;" — Then  a  bow 
Down  to  the  earth\ — Is^t  possible  to  show 
Meet  gratitude  for  such  kind  condescension^  ? 

5.  The  poor  man  hung  his  head. 
And  to  himself  he  said, 

*' This  is  indeed  beyond  my  comprehension;" 


g24  SANDERS'    UXIX)N    SERIB 

Then  looking  round,  one  friendly  face  he  found, 
And  said, — "  Pray  tell  me  why  is  wealth  preferred 
"To  wisdom?''— "That's  a  silly  question,  friend  I" 
Keplied  the  other, — ''  have  you  never  heard, 

A  man  may  lend  his  store 

Of  gold  or  silver  ore, 
But  wisdom  none  can  borrow,  none  can  lend  ?" 

Questions. — 1.  How  do  you  account  for  the  different  inflections  in  the  last 
line  of  the  second  verse  ?  See  page  31,  Note  I.  2.  What  rule  for  the  falling 
inflection  on  condescension  1    See  page  29,  Note  I. 


LESSON   XOIII. 

Ex  HI  Bl"  TI0N$,  displays.  \  Re  $erv'  ed,  kept. 

Cm  CUM  scrib'  ed,  encompassed.        ;  En  tranc'  ed,  enraptured, 

Na'  vie$,  ships  of  war.  [war.  \  Prom'  on  to  ry,  headland. 

Arm'  a  ments,  forces  equipped   for  ;'  Re  veal'  ed,  laid  open. 

Im  ped'  ed.  hindered ,  obstructed.      •  Sym'  bol,  token  ;  sign. 

Le  vi'  A  THAN,  hugo  sea-monster.       •  Ad  a  man'  tine,  exceedingly  hard. 

Mag  nif'  i  cence,  grandeur.  \  Ap  per  tain'  ing,  belonging. 

Un  a  bat'  ed,  undimmished.  i  Trans  form'  ing,  changing. 

*  Ac'  Ti  UM  is  the  ancient  name  of  a  promontory  of  Albania,  in  Tujrkey 
in  Europ?,  near  which  was  fought  (b.  c.  29)  the  celebrated  naval  battle  that 
made  Augustus  Caesar  master  of  the  Roman  world. 

'  Sal'  a  mis,  an  island  opposite  Attica,  in  Greece,  near  which  (b.  c.  480) 
occurred  the  famous  naval  engagement  which  resulted  in  the  defeat  of  the 
Persians. 

*  Nav  a  ri'  no  is  a  seaport  town  on  the  southwestern  coast  of  Greece. 
It  was  the  scene  of  the  memorable  victory  of  the  combined  English,  French, 
and  Russian  fleets  over  those  of  the  Turks  and  Egyptians,  gained  on  the 
20th  of  October,  1827. 

4  Tra  fal  gar',  a  cape  on  the  southwestern  coast  of  Spain.  It  ls  famous 
for  the  great  naval  battle,  fought  in  its  vicinity,  Oct  21st,  1805,  between  the 
fleets  of  the  French  and  Spanish  on  the  one  side,  and  the  English,  under  Lord 
'Nelson,  on  the  other.  The  English  were  victorious,  though  Nelson  waa 
laoitall/  wounded. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  g25 

GRANDEUR   OF    THE    OCEAM* 

Walter  Colton. 

1.  The  most  fearful  and  impressive  exhibitions  of  power 
known  to  our  globe,  belong  to  the  ocean.  The  volcano,  with 
its  ascending  flame  and  falling  torrents  of  fire,  and  the  earth- 
quake, whose  footstep  is  on  the  ruin  of  cities,  are  circum- 
scribed in  the  desolating  range  of  their  visitations.  But 
the  ocean,  when  it  once  rouses  itself  in  its  chainless  strength, 
shakes  a  thousand  shores  with  its  storm  and  thunder. 
Navies  of  oak  and  iron  are  tossed  in  mockery  from  its  crest, 
and  armaments,  manned  bj  the  strength  and  courage  of 
millions,  perish  among  its  bubbles. 

2.  The  avalanche,  shaken  from  its  glittering  steep,  if  it 
rolls  to  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  melts  away,  and  is  lost  in 
vapor ;  but  if  it  plunge  into  the  embrace  of  the  ocean,  this 
mountain  mass  of  ice  and  hail  is  borne  about  for  ages  in 
tumult  and  terror  :  it  is  the  drifting  monument  of  the  ocean's 
dead.  The  tempest  on  land  is  impeded  by  forests,  and 
broken  by  mountains  ;  but  on  the  plain  of  the  deep  it  rushes 
unresisted ;  and  when  its  strength  is  at  last  spent,  ten  thou- 
sand giant  waves  still  roll  its  terrors  onward. 

0.  The  mountain  lake  and  the  meadow  stream  are  inhab- 
ited only  by  the  timid  prey  of  the  angler ;  but  the  ocean  is 
the  home  of  the  leviathan, — his  ways  are  in  the  mighty 
deep.  The  glittering  pebble  and  the  rainbow- tinted  shell, 
which  the  returning  tide  has  left  on  the  shore,  and  the 
watery  gem  which  the  pearl-diver  reaches  at  the  peril  of 
his  life,  are  all  that  man  can  filch  from  the  treasures  of  the 
sea.  The  groves  of  coral  which  wave  over  its  pavements, 
and  the  halls  of  amber  which  glow  in  its  depths,  are  beyond 
his  approaches,  save  when  he  goes  down  there  to  seek,  amid 
their  silent  magnificence,  his  burial  monument. 

4.  The  islands,  the  continents,  the  shores  of  civilized  and 


326  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

savage  realms,  the  capitals  of  kings,  are  worn  by  time, 
washed  away  bj  the  wave,  consumed  by  the  flame,  or  sunk 
by  the  earthquake  ;  but  the  ocean  still  remains,  and  still  rolls 
on  in  the  greatness  of  its  unabated  strength.  Over  the 
majesty  of  its  form  and  the  marvel  of  its  might,  time  and 
disaster  have  no  power.  Such  as  creation's  dawn  beheld, 
it  rolleth  now. 

5.  The  vast  clouds  of  vapor  which  roll  up  from  its  bosom, 
float  away  to  encircle  the  globe  :  on  distant  mountains  and 
deserts  they  pour  out  their  watery  treasures,  whfcli  gather 
themselves  again  in  streams  and  torrents,  to  return,  with 
exulting  bounds,  to  their  parent  ocean.  These  are  the  mes- 
sengers which  proclaim  in  every  land  the  exhaustless  re- 
sources of  the  sea ;  but  it  is  reserved  for  those  who  go  down 
in  ships,  and  who  do  business  in  the  great  waters,  to  see  the 
works  of  the  Lord  and  His  wonders  in  the  deep. 

6.  Let  one  go  upon  deck  in  the  middle  watch  of  a  still 
niojht,  with  nauorht  above  him  but  the  silent  and  solemn 
skies,  and  naught  around  and  beneath  him  but  an  interminable 
waste  of  waters,  and  with  the  conviction  that  there  is  but  a 
plank  between  him  and  eternity,  a  feeling  of  loneliness,  soli- 
tude, and  desertion,  mingled  with  a  sentiment  of  reverence 
for  the  vast,  mysterious  and  unknown,  will  come  upon  him 
with  a  power,  all  unknown  before,  and  he  might  stand  for 
hours  entranced  in  reverence  and  tears. 

7.  Man,  also,  has  made  the  ocean  the  theater  of  his  power. 
The  ship  in  which  he  rides  that  element,  is  one  of  the  highest 
triumphs  of  his  skill.  At  first,  this  floating  fabric  was  only 
a  frail  bark,  slowly  urged  by  the  laboring  oar.  The  sail,  at 
length,  arose  and  spread  its  wings  to  the  wind.  Still  he  had 
no  power  to  direct  his  course  when  the  lofty  promontory  sunk 
from  sight,  or  the  orbs  above  him  were  lost  in  clouds.  But 
the  secret  of  the  magnet  is,  at  length,  revealed  to  him,  and 


KUMBER    FOUR. 


82T 


his  needle  now  settleS;  with  a  fixedness  which  love  has  stolen 
as  the  symbol  of  its  constancy,  to  the  polar  star. 

8.  Now,  however,  he  can  dispense  even  with  sail,  and  wind, 
and  flowing  wave.  He  constructs  and  propels  his  vast 
engines  of  flame  and  vapor,  and^  through  the  solitude  of  the 
sea,  as  over  the  solid  land,  goes  thundering  on  his  track.  On 
the  ocean,  too,  thrones  have  been  lost  and  won.  On  the  fate 
of  Actium'  was*  suspended  the  empire  of  the  world.  In  the 
gulf  of  Salamis,''  the  pride  of  Persia  found  a  grave ;  and  the 
crescent  set  forever  in  the  waters  of  Navarino;'  while,  at 
Trafalgar*  and  the  Nile,  nations  held  their  breath, 

As  each  gun, 
From  its  adamantino  lips, 
Spread  a  death-shade  round  the  ships 
Like  the  hurricane's  eclipse 

Of  the  sun. 

9.  But,  of  all  the  wonders  appertaining  to  the  ocean,  the 
greatest,  perhaps,  is  its  transforming  power  on  man.  It 
unravels  and  weaves  anew  the  web  of  his  moral  and  social 
being.  It  invests  him  with  feelings,  associations,  and  habits, 
to  which  he  has  been  an  entire  stranger.  It  breaks  up  the 
sealed  fountain  of  his  nature,  and  lifts  his  soul  into  features 
prominent  as  the  cliffs  which  beetle  over  its  surge. 

10.  Once  the  adopted  child  of  the  ocean,  he  can  never 
bring  back  his  entire  sympathies  to  land.  He  will  still 
move  in  his  dreams  over  that  vast  waste  of  waters,  still 
bound  in  exultation  and  triumph  through  its  foaming  bil- 
lows. All  the  other  realities  of  life  will  be  comparatively 
tame,  and  he  will  sigh  for  his  tossing  element,  as  the  caged 
eagle  for  the  roar  and  arrowy  light  of  his  mountain  cataract. 

Questions. — 1.  What  is  said  of  the  volcano  and  earthquaka?  2.  Of  the 
avalanche  and  tempest  ?  3.  Of  the  ocean  ?  4.  Of  ships  ?  5.  "Wliere  have 
naval  battles  been  fought  ?     6.  What  influence  has  the  ocean  on  man  ? 


328  SANDEKS'    UNIOH    SERIES. 

LESSON   XOIV. 

Re  lax'  ED,  loosened.         [tentions.  j  Un  pre  tend'  ing,  unostentatious. 
As  SI  Du'  I  tie$,  kind,  constant  at-  )  Ha  bil'  i  ments,  vestments. 
Con  sign'  ed,  committed ;  given  over  |  Su  per  sti"  tious,  fall  of  scruples. 
Ex  te'  ri  or,  outer  appearance.  |  Reg'  on  cf le,  make  willing. 

Un  af  fect'  ed,  sincere.  \  Pen'  e  trates,  sees  through. 

Per  vade',  (per,   through;  vade,  go,  or  pass;)  pass  through;    appear 
throughout. 

A    BURIAL    AT    SEA. 

Walter  Coltox. 

1.  Death  is  a  fearful  thing,  come  in  -what  form  it  may, — 
fearfuj,  when  the  vital  chords  are  so  gradually  relaxed,  that 
life  passes  away  sweetly  as  music  from  the  slumbering  harp- 
string, — fearful,  when  in  his  own  quiet  chamber,  the  depart- 
ing one  is  summoned  by  those  who  sweetly  follow  him  with 
their  prayers,  when  the  assiduities  of  friendship  and  affection 
can  go  no  farther,  and  who  discourse  of  heaven  and  future 
blessedness,  till  the  closing  ear  can  no  longer  catch  the  tones 
of  the  long-familiar  voice,  and  who,  lingering  near,  still  feel 
for  the  hushed  pulse,  and  then  trace  in  the  placid  slumber, 
which  pervades  each,  feature,  a  quiet  emblem  of  the  spirit  3 
•serene  repose. 

2.  What,  then,  must  this  dread  event  be  to  one,  who  meets 
it  comparatively  alone,  far  away  from  the  hearth  of  his 
home,  upon  a  troubled  sea,  between  the  narrow  decks  of  a 
restless  ship,  and  at  that  dread  hour  of  night,  when  even  the 
sympathies  of  the  world  seem  suspended  !  Such  has  been 
the  end  of  many  who  traverse  the  ocean ;  and  such  was  the 
hurried  end  of  him,  whose  remains  wo  have  just  consigned 
to  a  watery  grave. 

3.  He  was  a  sailor ;  but,  beneath  his  rude  exterior,  he 
carried  a  heart  touched  with  refinement,  pride,  and  great- 


NUMBER    FOUR.  g29 

ness.  There  was  something  about  him,  which  spoke  of  better 
days  and  a  higher  destiny.  By  what  errors  or  misfortunes 
he  was  reduced  to  his  humble  condition,  was  a  secret  which 
he  would  reveal  to  none.  Silent,  reserved,  and  thoughtful, 
he  stood  a  stranger  among  his  free  companions,  and  never 
was  his  voice  heard  in  the  laughter  or  the  jest.  He  has 
undoubtedly  left  behind  many  who  will  long  look  for  his 
return,  and  bitterly  weep  when  they  are  told  they  shall  see 
his  face  no  more. 

4.  As  the  remains  of  the  poor  sailor  were  brought  up  on 
deck,  wound  in  that  hammock  which,  through  many  a  stormy 
night,  had  swung  to  the  wind,  one  could  not  but  observe  the 
big  tear  that  stole  unconsciously  doAvn  the  rough  cheeks  of  his 
hardy  companions.  When  the  funeral  service  was  read  to 
that  most  affecting  passage,  "we  commit  this  body  to  the 
deep,^'  and  the  plank  was  raised  which  precipitated  to  the 
momentary  eddy  of  the  wave  the  quickly  disappearing  form, 
a  heavy  sigh  from  those  around,  told  that  the  strong  heart 
of  the  sailor  can  be  touched  with  grief,  and  that  a  truly 
unaffected  sorrow  may  accompany  virtue,  in  its  most  unpre- 
tending form,  to  its  ocean  grave.  Yet  how  soon  is  such  a 
scene  forgotten ! 

"  As  from  the  wing  tho  sky  no  scar  retains, 
Tho  parted  wave  no  furrow  from  the  keel, 
So  dies  in  human  hearts  tho  thought  of  death." 

5.  There  is  something  peculiarly  melancholy  and  impress- 
I've  in  a  burial  at  sea  :  there  is  here  no  coffin  or  hearse, 
procession  or  tolling  bell, — nothing  that  gradually  prepares 
IS  f  jr  the  final  separation.  The  body  is  w^ound  in  the  drapery 
of  its  couch,  much  as  if  the  deceased  were  only  in  a  quiet 
and  temporary  sleep.  In  these  habiliments  of  seeming  slum- 
ber, it  is  dropped  into  the  wave,  the  waters  close  over  it,  the 
vessel  passes  quickly  on,  and  not  a  solitary  traco  is  left  to 


33Q  SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

tell  where  sunk  from  light  and  life,  one  that  loved  to  look 
at  the  sky  and  breathe  this  vital  air. 

6.  There  is  nothing  that,  for  one  moment,  can  point  to 
the  deep,  un visited  resting-place  of  the  departed, — it  is  a 
grave  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean, — in  the  midst  of  a  vast, 
untrodden  solitude.  Affection  can  not  approach  it,  with  its 
tears;  the  dews  of  heaven  can  not  reach  it;  and  there  is 
around  it  no  violet,  or  shrub,  or  murmuring  stream. 

7.  It  may  be  superstitious ;  but  no  advantages  of  wealth, 
or  honor,  or  power,  through  life,  would  reconcile  me  at  its 
close  to  such  a  burial.  I  would  rather  share  the  coarse  and 
scanty  provisions  of  the  simplest  cabin,  and  drop  away  un- 
known and  unhonored  by  the  world,  so  that  my  final  resting- 
place  be  beneath  some  green  tree,  by  the  side  of  some  living 
stream,  or  in  some  familiar  spot,  where  the  few  that  loved 
me  in  life,  might  visit  me  in  death. 

8.  But,  whether  our  grave  be  in  the  fragrant  shade,  or  in 
the  fathomless  ocean,  among  our  kindred,  or  in  the  midst  of 
strangers,  the  day  is  coming  when  we  shall  all  appear  at  one 
universal  bar,  and  receive  from  a  righteous  Judge  the  award 
of  our  deeds.  He  that  is  wisest,  penetrates  the  future  the 
deepest. 

QuESTioxs.— 1.  "What  is  said  of  death?  2.  What,  of  death  at  sea?  3. 
What  renders  a  burial  at  sea  pecuHarly  melancholj  and  impressive  ? 


LESSON    XOV. 

Mys  te'  ri  ous,  secret ;  mystical.  (  Scorn'  ftjl,  disdainful 

Un  reck'  ED,  unheeded.  \  De  cay',  ruin ;   destruction. 

Ar'  go  sie$,  ships  of  great  burden.  I  Boom'  ing,  roaring. 

Wrath'  ful,  furious ;  raging.  )  Fes'  tal,  joyous  ;  merry. 

Pal'  a  ce$,  splendid  mansions.  :  Re  claim',  claim  again ;  recover. 


NUMBEXi    FOUR, 


331 


THE  TREASURES  OF  THE  DEEP* 

Mns.  IIemaks. 

1.  What  hid'st  thou  in  thy  treasure-caves  and  cells  ? 

Thou  hollow-sounding  and  mysterious  main  ! 
Pale,  glistening  pearls,  and  rainbow-colored  shells, 

Bright  things  which  gleam  unrecked  of,  and  in  vain! 
Keep,  keep  thy  riches,  melancholy  seal 
We  ask  not  such  from  thee. 

2.  Yet  more,  the  depths  have  more  !  what  wealth  untold, 

Far  down,  and  shining  through  their  stillness  lies ! 
Thou  hast  the  starry  gems,  the  burning  gold, 

Won  from  ten  thousand  royal  argosies ! 
Sweep  o'er  thy  spoils,  thou  wild  and  wrathful  main ! 
Earth  claims  not  these  again. 

3.  Yet  more,  the  depths  have  more  !  thy  waves  have  rolled 

Above  the  cities  of  a  world  gone  by ! 
Sand  hath  filled  up  the  palaces  of  old, 

Sea-weed  o'ergrown  the  halls  of  revelry. 
Dash  o'er  them.  Ocean !  in  thy  scornful  play  ! 
Man  yields  them  to  decay. 

4.  Yet  more,  the  billows  and  the  depths  have  more  I 

High  hearts  and  brave  are  gathered  to  thy  breast : 
They  hear  not  now  the  booming  waters  roar  ; 

The  battle-thunders  will  not  break  their  rest. 

Keep  thy  red  gold  and  gems,  thou  stormy  grave ! 

Give  back  the  true  and  brave  ! 

5.  Give  back  the  lost  and  lovely,  - — those  for  whom 

The  place  was  kept  at  board  and  hearth  so  long. 


332  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

The  prayer  went  up  through  midnight's  breathless  gloom, 

And  the  vain  yearning  woke  'midst  festal  song! 
Hold  fast  thy  buried  isles,  tby  towers  o'erthrownj 
But  all  is  not  thine  own. 

6.  To  thee  the  love  of  woman  hath  gone  down ; 

Dark  flow  thy  tides  o'er  manhood's  noble  head, 
O'er  youth's  bright  locks,  and  beauty's  flowery  crown, 

Yet  must  thou  hear  a  voice, — Restore  the  dead  I 
Earth  shall  reclaim  her  precious  things  from  thee  I 
Restore  the  dead^  thou  Sea  ! 

Questions. — 1.  What  are  some  of  the  treasures  of  the  deep?  2.  What 
treasures  has  the  sea  won  from  trading  vessels  ?  3.  Over  what  does  the 
sea  roll  ?     4.  What  does  the  writer  call  on  the  sea  to  restore  ? 


LESSON    XOVI. 

Un  for'  tu  NATE,  wretched  person.    |  A  maze'  ment,  astonishment. 

Cer'  e  ments,  grave-clothes.  \  Dis'  so  lute,  abandoned ;  licentious. 

ScRu'  Ti  NY,  inquiry.  \  Spur'  red,  pus^ied  on ;  impelled. 

Mu'  TI  NY,  resistance  to  rightful  rule.  <.  Con'  tu  me  ly,  scorn  ;  insult. 

Won'  der  ment,  curiosity.  ^  In  hu  man'  i  ty,  cruel  treatment. 

Prov'  I  DENCE,  care ;  protection.         ;  In  san'  i  ty,  madness. 


THE    BRIDGE    OF    SIGHS* 

Thomas  IIood. 

1.  One  more  Unfortunate,  j   3.  Look  at  her  garments 

Weary  of  breath,  >         Clinging  hke  cerements ; 

Rashly  importunate,  |         While  the  wave  constantly 

Gone  to  her  death  I  |  Drips  from  her  clothing; 

^    rr,  ,     ,  ,  Take  her  up  mstantly, 

2.  Take  her  up  tenderly,  ^      ■  .  i     +t 

..._  ,       ^.  •"  Lovmg,  not  loathmg. 

Lift  her  with  care, 

Fashioned  so  slenderly,  [    4.  Touch  her  not  scornfully; 

Young,  and  so  fakl  ^         Think  of  her  mournfully, 


NUMBER    FOUK. 


383 


Gently  and  humanly ; 
Not  of  the  stains  of  her; 
All  that  remains  of  her 

Now,  IS  pure  womanly. 

o.  Make  no  deep  scrutiny 
Into  her  mutiny, 

Eash  and  undutiful  ; 
Past  all  dishonor. 
Death  has  left  on  her 

Only  the  beautiful. 

C.  Loop  up  her  tresses 

Escaped  from  the  comb, — 
Her  fair  auburn  tresses ; 
While  wonderment  guesses 

Where  Y/as  her  home  ? 

7    Who  was  her  father^  ? 

Who  was  her  mother^? 
Had  she  a  sister'  ? 

Had  she  a  brother'  ? 
Or,  was  there  a  dearer  one 
Still,  and  a  nearer  one 

Yet,  than  all  other'? 

a    Alas  I  for  the  rarity 
Of  Christian  charity 

Under  the  sun  I 
Oh !  it  was  pitiful  I 
Near  a  whole  city  full, 
Home  she  had  none. 

^i  Sisterly,  brotherly, 
Fatlierly,  motherly, 

Feelings  had  changed: 
Love,  by  harsh  evidenoe. 
Thrown  from  its  eminence ; 
Even  God's  providence 

Seeming  estranged. 


10.  Where  the  lamps  quiver 
So  far  in  the  river. 

With  many  a  light 
From  window  and  casement, 
From  garret  to  basement, 
She  stood  with  amazement, 

Houseless  by  night. 

11.  The  bleak  winds  of  March 

Made  her  tremble  and  shiver* 
But  not  the  dark  arch. 

Or  the  black  flowing  river ; 
Mad  from  life's  history. 
Glad  to  death's  mystery, 

Swift  to  be  hurled — 
Anywhere,  anywhere, 

Out  of  the  world! 

12.  In  she  plunged  boldly, 
No  matter  how  coldly 

The  rough  river  ran — 
Picture  it — think  of  it. 
Dissolute  Man! 

13.  Take  her  up  tenderly, 

Lift  her  with  care, 

Fashioned  so  slenderly, 

Young,  and  so  fair  1 

14.  Perishing  gloomily. 
Spurred  by  contumely. 
Cold  inhumanity. 
Burning  insanity. 

Into  her  rest. 
Cross  her  hands  humbly. 
As  if  praying  dumbly. 

Over  her  breast ! 

15.  Owning  her  weakness. 

Her  evil  behavior, 
And  leaving,  with  meekness. 
Her  sins  to  her  Savior ! 


*^ 


334  SANDERS'    USION    SERIES. 

LESSON    XOVII. 

Be'  qui  em,  hymn  in  honor  of   tlie  (  Droop,  languish ;  fail. 
Wed,  joined ;  united.  [dead.  |  Af  tec'  tion,  love. 

Hence' FORTH,  hereafter.  \  Dim'med,  dull;  obscured. 

A    REQUIEM* 

1.  Breathe  low,  thou  gentle  wind, 
{pi.)         Breathe  soft  and  low; 

The  beautiful  lies  dead  ! 
The  joy  of  life  is  fled ! 
And  my  lone  heart  is  wed 
Henceforth  to  woe  I 

2.  That  thou  should'st  droop  and  die 

At  early  morn  ! 
While  yet  thy  graceful  dew 
A  joyous  fragrance  drew 
From  every  flower  that  grew 

Life's  path  along  ! 

8.  The  green  earth  mourns  for  thee, 
Thou  dearest  one; 
A  plaintive  tone  is  heard, 
'  And  flower  and  leaflet  stirred, 
And  every  fav'rite  bird 
Sings  sad  and  lone. 

4.  Pale  is  thy  brow,  and  dimmed 

Thy  sparkling  eye  ! 
Affection's  sweetest  token 
Is  lost  fore'er  and  broken  I 
The  last  kind  word  is  spoken, — 

Why  did' St  thou  die? 


NUMBER    FOUR.  335 

5.  Breathe  low,  thou  gentle  wind. 

Breathe  soft  and  low; 
The  beautiful  lies  dead ! 
The  jo  J  of  life  is  fled ! 
And  my  lone  heart  is  wed 

Henceforth  to  woe  ! 

Questions. — 1.  "What  rule  for  changing  y  into  i  in  the  word  beautiful  f 
See  Analysis,  page  13,  rule  XL  2.  Why  are  r  and  m  doubled  in  the  words 
stirred,  dimmed?  See  Rule  IX.  3.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  suffix  let, 
in  the  word  leaflet  ?     See  page  140,  Ex.  185. 

LESSON   XOVIII. 

Lux  u'  EI  ANT,  rich  ;  plentiful.  >  Di'  A  ry,  note-book ;  journal. 

Un  OS  TEN  ta'tious,  plain;  not  showy.  So  jouen'  ed,  resided  for  a  while. 

Rev  er  en'  tial,  deeply  respectful.  Ac  cla  ma'  tion$,  shouts. 

Re  cep'  ta  CLE,  place  of  reception,     i  Tri  umph'  al,  relating  to  victory. 

Sem'  I  ciR  CLE,  half-circle.  ^  Grat  u  la'  tion,  rejoicing. 

Reg  og  ni"  tion,  act  of  knowing.      |  In  aug  u  ra'  tion,  act  of  investing 

Ag  RI  cul'  tur  al,  relating  to  farming.  |       with  office. 

Ben  e  Die'  tion,  blessing.  >  En  fran'  ciii$  ed,  freed ;  liberated. 

^  Sar  coph'  a  gus,  (sarco,  flesh;  and  phagus,  that  which  eats  or  devours,) 
IS  made  up  of  two  Greek  words,  signifying  together  fl^sh-eaiing,  and  was 
applied  by  the  ancients  to  a  species  of  stone,  used  for  making  coffins.  Hence, 
sarcophagus  came  to  signify  a  stone-coffin.  The  form  of  the  plural  in  Latin, 
is  sarcophagi. 

'  Bas'  tile,  {bos'  ieel,)  an  old  state  prison  in  Paris,  built  iu  1369,  and  de- 
Btroyed  by  a  mob  in  1789. 

VISIT    TO    MOUNT    VERNON. 

A.  C.  RiTcniE. 

1.  At  this  moment,  we  drew  near  the  rude  wharf  at  Mount 
Vernon ;  the  boat  stopped,  and  the  crowd  of  passengers 
landed,     Bj  a  narrow  pathway  we  ascended  a  majestic  hill 


336  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

thickly  draped  with  trees.  The  sun  scarcely  foifnd  its  way 
through  the  luxuriant  foliage.  We  mounted  slowly,  but  had 
only  spent  a  few  minutes  in  ascending,  when  we  came  sud- 
denly upon  a  picturesque  nook,  where  a  cluster  of  unosten- 
tatious, white  marble  shafts,  shot  from  the  greenly  sodded 
earth,  inclosed  by  iron  railings.  Those  unpretending  monu- 
ments mark  the  localities  where  repose  the  mortal  remains 
of  Washington's  kindred. 

2.  Jast  beyond  stands  a  square  brick  building.  In  the 
center  you  see  an  iron  gate.  Here  the  crowd  pauses  in  rev- 
erential silence.  Men  lift  their  hats  and  women  bow  their 
heads.  You  behold  within,  two  sarcophagi.  \  In  those 
moldering  tombs  lie  the  ashes  of  the  great  Washington  and 
his  wife.  Not  a  word  is  uttered  as  the  crowd  stand  gazing 
on  this  lowly  receptacle  of  the  dust  of  America's  mighty 
dead. 

3.  Are  there  any  in  that  group  who  can  say,  "this  was 
our  country's  father'?"  If  there  be,  can  they  stand  pilgrims 
at  that  grave  without  Washington's  examples,  his  counsels, 
his  words,  heretofore,  it  may  be  half-forgotten,  stealing  back 
into  their  minds,  until  the  sense  of  reverence  and  gratitude 
is  deepened  almost  to  awe'  ?  Do  they  not  feel  that  Wash- 
ington's spirit  is  abroad  in  the  world,  filling  the  souls  of  a 
heaven-favored  people  with  the  love  of  freedom  and  of  coun- 
try, though  his  ashes  are  gathered  here'? 

4.  Some  one  moves  to  pass  on ;  and,  with  that  first  step, 
the  spell  is  broken;  others  follow.  Herman  and  Jessie 
linger  last.  After  a  period  of  mute  and  moving  reflection, 
they  turn  away  and  slowy  approach  the  mansion  that,  in 
simple,  rural  stateliness,  stands  upon  a  noble  promontory, 
belted  with  woods,  and  half-girdled  by  the  sparkling  waters 
of  the  Potomac,  which  flow  in  a  semicircle  around  a  portion 
of  the  mount. 


NUMBER    FOUR, 


837 


6.  The  water  and  woodland  view  from  the  portico  is  highly 
imposing.  But  it  was  not  the  mere  recognition  of  the  pictur- 
esque and  beautiful  in  nature,  that  moved  Herman  and 
Jessie.  Thej  would  have  felt  that  they  were  on  holy  ground, 
had  the  landscape  been  devoid  of  natural  charm.  Here  the 
feet  of  the  first  of  heroes  had  trod,  and  here,  in  boyhood,  he 
had  sported  with  his  beloved  brother  Lawrence. 

6.  In  those  forests,  those  deep-wooded  glens,  he  had  hunted, 
when  a  stripling,  by  the  side  of  old  Lord  Fairfax ;  here  he 
took  his  first  lessons  in  the  art  of  war ;  to  this  home  he 
brought  his  bride;  by  this  old-fashioned,  hospitable-looking 
fireside,  he  sat  with  that  dear  and  faithful  wife  ;  beneath 
yonder  alley  of  lofty  trees  he  has  often  wandered  by  her  side ; 
here  he  indulged  the  agricultural  tastes  in  which  he  de- 
lighted ;  here  resigned  his  Cincinnatus  vocation,  and  bade 
adieu  to  his  cherished  home  at  the  summons  of  his  country. 

7.  Here  his  wife  received  the  letter  which  told  her  that 
he  had  been  appointed  Commander-in-chief  of  the  army ; 
here,  when  the  glorious  struggle  closed  at  the  trumpet  notes 
of  victory — when  the  British  had  retired — when,  wath  tears 
coursing  down  his  benignant,  manly  countenance,  he  had 
uttered  a  touching  farewell — bestowed  a  paternal  benediction 
on  the  American  army,  and  resigned  all  public  service — 
here  he  returned,  thinking  to  resume  the  rural  pursuits  that 
charmed  him,  and  to  end  his  days  in  peace  ! 

8.  Here  are  the  trees,  the  shrubbery  he  planted  with  his 
own  hands,  and  noted  in  his  diary  ;  here  are  the  columns  of 
the  portico  round  which  he  twined  the  coral  honeysuckle ; 
the  ivy  he  transplanted  still  clings  to  yonder  garden  w^all  ; 
these  vistas  he  opened  through  yon  pine  groves  to  command 
far-off  views  !  Here  the  valiant  Lafayette  sojourned  with 
him ;  there  hangs  the  key  of  the  Bastile'  which  he  presented. 

9.  Here  flocked  the  illustrious   men   of  all  climes,  and 

15 


338  SA^^DERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

were  received  with  warm,  unpretending,  almost  rustic  hospi- 
tality. Here  the  French  Houdon  modeled  his  statue,  and 
the  English  Pine  painted  his  portrait,  and  caused  that  jocose 
remark,  ' '  I  am  so  hackneyed  to  the  touches  of  the  painters' 
pencil,  that  I  am  altogether  at  their  beck,  and  sit  like 
'  Patience  on  a  monument !'  " 

10.  Then  came  another  summons  from  the  land  he  had 
saved,  and  he  was  chosen  by  unanim.ous  voice  its  chief  ruler. 
Thousands  of  men,  women,  and  children,  sent  up  acclama- 
tions, and  called  down  blessings  on  his  head,  as  he  made  his 
triumphal  progress  from  Mount  Vernon  to  New  York,  to 
take  the  presidential  oath.  The  roar  of  cannon  rent  the  air. 
The  streets  through  which  he  passed,  were  illuminated  and 
decked  with  flags  and  wreaths.  Bonfires  blazed  on  the  hills. 
From  ships  and  boats  floated  festive  decorations.  At  Gray's 
Ferry,  he  passed  under  triumphal  arches 

11.  On  the  bridge  across  the  Assumpink,  at  Trenton, 
(the  very  bridge  over  which  he  had  retreated  in  such  blank 
despair,  before  the  army  of  Cornwallis,  on  the  eve  of  the 
battle  of  Princeton,)  thirteen  pillars,  twined  with  laurel  and 
evergreens,  were  reared  by  woman's  hands.  The  foremost  of 
the  arches  those  columns  supported,  bore  the  inscription, 
"  The  Defender  of  the  Mothers  vnll  he  the  Protector  of 
the  Daughters.''^  Mothers,  with  their  white-robed  daugh- 
ters, were  assembled  beneath  the  vernal  arcade.  Thirteen 
maidens  scattered  flowers  beneath  his  feet,  as  they  sang  an 
ode  of  gratulation.  The  people's  hero  ever  after  spoke  of 
this  tribute,  as  the  one  that  touched  him  most  deeply. 

12.  When  his  first  presidential  term  expired,  and  his  heart 
yearned  for  the  peace  of  his  domestic  hearth,  the  entreaties 
of  Jefferson,  Randolph,  and  Hamilton,  forced  him  to  forget 
that  home  for  the  one  he  held  in  the  hearts  of  patriots,  and 
to  allow  his  name  to  be  used  a  second  time.     A  second  time 


NUMBER    FOUR.  339 

he  was  unanimously  elected  to  preside  over  his  country's 
welfare.  But,  the  period  happily  expired,  he  thankfully  laid 
aside  the  mantle  of  state,  the  scepter  of  power,  and,  five  days 
after  the  inauguration  of  Adams,  returned  here  to  his  Mount 
Vernon  home.  And  here  the  good  servant,  whom  his  Lord, 
when  He  came,  found  watching  and  ready,  calmly  yielded 
up  his  breath,  exclaiming,  ''It  is  well !"  and  his  spirit  was 
wafted  to  Heaven  by  the  blessings  of  his  enfranchised  coun- 
trymen. 

Questions. — 1.  "WTiero  is  Mount  Yernon  ?  2.  "What  is  said  of  "Washing- 
ton's tomb?  3.  Mention  some  of  the  things  which  he  did  here?  4.  What 
demonstrations  were  made  by  the  people,  as  he  went  to  New  York  to  take 
the  oath  of  office  ?     5.  Did  he  serve  more  than  one  term  as  President  ? 

LESSON    XOIX. 

Chiv'  al  ROUS,  gallant ;  heroic.  ;  Cru  SADe',  battle  zealously. 

Hal'  low,  consecrate ;  keep  sacred.  ^  Ca  reer'  ed,  moved  rapidly. 

Mer'  ce  na  ry,  mean ;  venal.  \  Phal'  anx,  compact  body  of  men. 

Ad  ven'  tur  er,   fortune-seeker.        I  Trans  port'  ixa,  exulting. 

Yan'  quish  ED,  conquered.  <  Tro'  phie$,  memorials  of  victory. 

Out'  cast,  exile  ;  castaway.  Pa'  geant,  pompous ;  showy. 

Trap'  ping$,  ornaments ;  equipments.  -  Min'  ion,  favorite. 

LA    FAYETTE. 

Chaelks  Spkagttt;. 

1.  While  we  bring  our  oiFerings  for  the  mighty  of  our 
07/m  land,  shall  we  not  remember  the  chivalrous  spirits  of 
other  shores,  who  shared  with  them  the  hour  of  weakness 
and  woe'  ?  Pile  to  the  clouds  the  majestic  column  of  glory^; 
let  the  lips  of  those  who  can  speak  well,  hallow  each  spot 
where  the  bones  of  year  bold  repose^ ;  but  forget  not  those 
who,  with  your  bold,  went  out  to  battle. 


340  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

2.  Among  those  men  of  noble  daring,  there  was  07 te^  a 
young  and  gallant  stranger,  who  left  the  blushing  vine-hills 
of  his  delightful  France.  The  people  whom  he  came  to  suc- 
cor, were  not  his  people ;  he  knew  them  only  in  the  melan- 
choly story  of  their  wrongs.  He  was  no  mercenary  adven- 
turer, striving  for  the  spoil  of  the  vanquished  ]  the  palace 
acknowledged  him  for  its  lord,  and  the  valley  yielded  him 
its  increase.  He  was  no  nameles3  man,  staking  life  foi* 
reputation;  he  ranked  among  nobles,  and  looked  unawed 
upon  kings. 

3.  He  was  no  friendless  outcast,  seeking  for  a  grave  to 
hide  a  broken  heart ;  he  was  girdled  by  the  companions  of 
his  childhood ;  his  kinsmen  were  about  him ;  his  wife  was 
before  him.  Yet  from  all  these  loved  ones  he  turned  away. 
Like  a  lofty  tree  that  shakes  down  its  green  glories,  to  bat- 
tle with  the  winter  storm,  he  flung  aside  the  trappings  of 
place  and  pride,  to  crusade  for  Freedom,  in  Freedom's  holy 
land.  He  came^ ;  but  not  in  the  day  of  successful  rebellion' ; 
not  when  the  new-risen  sun  of  Independence  had  burst  the 
cloud  of  time,  and  careered  to  its  place  in  the  heavens'. 

4.  He  came  when  darkness  curtained  the  hills,  and  the 
tempest  was  abroad  in  its  anger^ ;  when  the  plow  stood  still 
in  the  field  of  promise,  and  briers  cumbered  the  garden  of 
beauty^ ;  when  fathers  were  dying,  and  mothers  were  weep- 
ing over  them^ ;  when  the  wife  was  binding  up  the  gashed 
bosom  of  her  husband,  and  the  maiden  was  wiping  the 
death-damp  from  the  brow  of  her  lover\  He  came  when  the 
brave  began  to  fear  the  power  of  man,  and  the  pious  to 
doubt  the  favor  of  God.  It  was  then  that  this  one  joined 
the  ranks  of  a  revolted  people. 

5.  Freedom's  little  phalanx  bade  him  a  grateful  welcome. 
With  them  he  courted  the  battle's  rage  ;  with  theirs,  his 
arm  was  lifted  ;  with  theirs,  his  blood  was  shed.     Long  and 


NUMBER    FOUR.  g4] 

doubtful  Tvas  the  conflict.  At  length,  kind  Heaven  smiled 
on  the  good  cause,  and  the  beaten  invaders  fled.  The  pro- 
fane were  driven  from  the  temple  of  Liberty,  and,  at  her 
pure  shrine,  the  pilgrim-warrior,  with  his  adored  com- 
mander, knelt  and  worshiped.  Leaving  there  his  offering, 
the  incense  of  an  uncorrupted  spirit,  he  at  length  rose,  and, 
crowned  with  benedictions,  turned  his  happy  feet  toward  his 
long-deserted  home. 

6.  After  nearly  fifty  years,  that  one  has  come  again.  Can 
mortal  tongue  tell  ?  can  mortal  heart  feel,  the  sublimity  of 
that  coming?  Exulting  millions  rejoice  in  it;  and  their 
loud,  long,  transporting  shout,  like  the  mingling  of  many 
winds,  rolls  on,  undying,  to  Freedom's  farthest  mountains. 
A  cono'refyated  nation  comes  around  him.  Old  men  bless 
him,  and  children  reverence  him.  The  lovely  come  out  to 
look  upon  him ;  the  learned  deck  their  halls  to  greet  him ; 
the  rulers  of  the  land  rise  up  to  do  him  homage. 

7.  How  his  full  heart  labors  !  He  views  the  rusting 
trophies  of  departed  days  ;  he  treads  the  high  places  where 
his  brethren  molder  ;  he  bends  before  the  tomb  of  his 
*' father;"^  his  words  are  tears, — the  speech  of  sad  remem- 
brance. But  he  looks  round  upon  a  ransomed  land  and  a 
joyous  race ;  he  beholds  the  blessings  these  trophies  se- 
cured, for  which  these  brethren  died,  for  which  that  "father" 
lived;  and  again  his  words  are  tears, — the  eloquence  of 
gratitude  and  joy. 

8.  Spread  forth  creation  like  a  map;  bid  earth's  dead 
multitudes  revive ;  and  of  all  the  pageant  splendors  that  ever 
glittered  to  the  sun,  when  looked  his  burning  eye  on  a  sight 
like  this  ?  Of  all  the  myriads  that  have  come  and  gone, 
what  cherished  minion  ever  ruled  an  hour  like  this  ?     Many 

*  Washington. 


342  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

have  struck  the  redeeming  hlow  for  their  own  freedom ;  but 
who,  like  this  man,  has  bared  his  bosom  in  the  cause  of 
strangers  ? 

9.  Others  have  lived  in  the  love  of  their  own  people  ;  but 
who,  like  this  man,  has  drank  his  sweetest  cup  of  welcome 
with  another?  Matchless  chief !  of  glory's  immortal  tablets 
there  is  one  for  him,  for  him  alone  !  Oblivion  shall  never 
shroud  its  splendor ;  the  everlasting  flame  of  Liberty  shall 
guard  it,  that  the  generations  of  men  may  repeat  the  name 
recorded  there,  the  beloved  name  of  La  Fayette. 

Questions. — 1.  Of  what  country  was  La  Fayette  a  native  ?  2.  "What 
was  his  position  at  home  ?  3.  In  wiiat  condition  was  this  country  when  ho 
came  to  join  our  army  ?  4,  How  many  years  after,  before  he  revisited  this 
country?  5.  "What  demonstrations  were  manifested  by  the  people?  6. 
What  is  said  of  his  fame  ? 

LESSON    0. 

Pro  fu'  sign,  abundance ;  variety,  i  Pa'  ge$,  boy-servants ;  attendants. 

Con  ru'  sion,  intricacy  ;   indistinct  ^.  Spar'  ring,  boxing ;  disputing. 

movement.  \  Pup'  pets,    dolls;  small  figures  of 

Com  mo'  tion,  agitation ;  shaking,  j      persons. 
Ee  $ult',  effect.  Pin'  ish,  completion. 

Di  min'  ish,  lessen.  |  G-lo'  ri  ous,  grand ;  splendid. 

Mts'  te  ry,  maze ;  secrecy.  c  Re  ject',  refuse  ;  deny.      [rowed. 

His'  to  ry,  plain  matter  of  fact.  \  Re  flect'  ed,   turned  back  j  bor- 

THE   MYSTIC    WEAVER* 

1.  Weaver  at  his  loom  is  sitting. 
Throws  his  shuttle  to  and  froj 
Foot  and  treadle-, 
Hand  and  pedal. 
Upward,  downward, 
Hither^  thither, 


^       DUMBER    FOUR.  343 

How  the  weaver  m*ikes  them  go ! 
As  the  weaver  wills  they  go. 
Up  and  down  the  web  is  plying, 
And  across  the  woof  is  flying ; 

What  a  rattling ! 

What  a  battling ! 

What  a  shuffling  ! 

What  a  scuffling ! 
As  the  weaver  makes  his  shuttle, 
Hither,  thither,  scud  and  scuttle. 

2.  Threads  in  single, 

Threads  in  double ; 
How  they  mingle  ! 
What  a  trouble, 
Every  color  ! 

What  profusion  I 
Every  motion — 
What  confusion  1 
While  the  web  and  woof  are  mingling, 
Signal  bells  above  are  jingling, 
Telling  how  each  figure  ranges. 
Telling  when  the  color  changes, 
As  the  weaver  makes  his  shuttle, 
Hither,  thither,  scud  and  scuttle. 

3.  Weaver  at  his  loom  is  sitting. 
Throws  his  shuttle  to  and  fro ; 
'Mid  the  noise  and  wild  confusion, 
Well  the  weaver  seems  to  know, 
As  he  makes  his  shuttle  go, 
What  each  motion, 
And  commotion, 


344  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

What  each  fusion, 

And  confusion, 
In  the  grand  result  will  show : 

Weaving  daily, 

Singing  gayly. 
As  he  makes  his  busy  shuttle, 
Hither,  thither,  scud  and  scuttle. 


4.  Weaver  at  his  loom  is  sitting, 

Throws  his  shuttle  to  and  fro ; 
See  you  not  how  shape  and  order 
From  the  wild  confusion  grow, 
As  he  makes  his  shuttle  go'  ? 
As  the  web  and  woof  diminish, 
Grows  beyond  the  beauteous  finish : 
Tufted  plaidings, 
Shapes  and  shadings, 
All  the  mystery 
Now  is  history  : 
And  we  see  the  reason  subtle, 
Why  the  weaver  makes  his  shuttle, 
Hither,  thither,  scud  and  scuttle. 

5.  See  the  Mystic  Weaver  sitting, 

High  in  Heaven — his  loom  below^ 
Up  and  down  the  treadles  go : 
Takes  for  web  the  world's  long  ages. 
Takes  for  woof  its  kings  and  sages, 
Takes  the  nobles  and  their  pages, 
Takes  all  stations  and  all  stages. 
Thrones  are  bobbins  in  His  shuttle  \ 
Armies  make  them  scud  and  scuttle. 


KUMBER    FOUR,  345 

6.  Web  into  the  woof  must  flow, 
Up  and  down  the  nations  go, 
As  the  Weaver  vnlls  they  go. 

Men  are  sparring, 

Powers  are  jarring. 

Upward,  downward. 

Hither,  thither. 
See  how  strange  the  nations  go, 
Just  like  puppets  in  a  show. 
Up  and  down  the  web  is  plying. 
And  across  the  woof  is  flying. 

What  a  rattling ! 

What  a  battling  !  . 

What  a  shuffling ! 

What  a  scuffling ! 
As  the  Weaver  makes  his  shuttle, 
Hither,  thither,  scud  and  scuttle. 


Calmly  see  the  Mystic  Weaver, 
Throw  His  shuttle  to  and  fro ; 
'Mid  the  noise  and  wild  confusion, 
Well  the  Weaver  seems  to  know 

What  each  motion 

And  commotion. 

What  each  fusion 

And  confusion. 
In  the  grand  result  will  show, 

As  the  nations, 

Kings  and  stations. 

Upward,  downAvard, 

Hither,  thither. 
As  in  mystic  dances,  go. 


g46  ^        SANDERS'    UNION    SJERIES, 

8.  In  the  Present  all  is  mystery, 

In  the  Past  'tis  beauteous  History. 
O'er  the  mixing  and  the  mingling, 
HovY  the  signal  bells  are  jingling! 
See  you  not  the  Weaver  leaving 
Finished  work  behind  in  weaving'? 

See  you  not  the  reason  subtle, 
As  the  web  and  woof  diminish, 
Changing  into  beauteous  finish, 

Why  the  Weaver  makes  His  shuttle, 
Hither,  thither,  scud  and  scuttle'? 

9.  Glorious  wonder  I     What  a  weaving ! 
To  the  dull  beyond  believing  ! 

Such  no  fabled  ages  know. 
Only  Faith  can  see  the  mystery 
How,  along  the  aisle  of  History 

Where' the  feet  of  sages  go. 
Loveliest  to  the  purest  eyes. 
Grand  the  mystic  tapet  lies  ! 
Soft  and  smooth  and  even-spreading 
As  if  made  for  angels'  treading ; 
Tufted  circles  touching  ever. 
Inwrought  figures  fading  never ; 
Every  figure  has  its  plaidings, 
Brighter  form  and  softer  shadings  j 
Each  illuminated, — what  a  riddle  ! — . 
From  a  Cross  that  gems  the  middle. 

10.  'Tis  a  saying — some  reject  it, — 
That  its  light  is  all  reflected  : 
That  the  tapet' s  hues  are  given 
By  a  Sun  that  shines  in  Heaven ! 


NUMBER    FOUR.  347 

'Tis  believed,  by  all  believing 
That  great  God  Himself  is  weaving ! 
Bringing  out  the  world's  dark  mystery 
In  the  light  of  Faith  and  History ; 
And,  as  web  and  woof  diminish, 
Comes  the  grand  and  glorious  finish : 
When  begin  the  golden  ages, 
Long  foretold  by  seers  and  sages. 

Questions. — 1.  Describe  the  process  of  weaving.    2.  "Who  are  weaving 
the  web  of  history  ?  • 


LESSON    CI. 

Con  found',  perplex ;  confuse.  I  Pi  o  neer$',  persons  that  go  before 

"Woof,  cloth  ,  texture.  J      to  prepare  the  way  for  others. 

Ear'  er,  scarcer  ;  more  excellent.  ^  Scouts,  spies. 

pRAi'  RiE$,  extensive  tracts  of  land,  i  Heart'  en,  encourage. 

with  few  trees.  |  Scan'  ned,  closely  examined. 

Sav'  age,  wild ;  uncultivated.  j  Cleav'  ing,  parting ;  separating. 

Sa  van'  na,  open  meadow  or  plain.  \  Hol'  i  day,  day  of  rest  or  joy. 


WORK    AWAY* 

Harpees'  Magazine. 

1.  Work  away  ! 

For  the  Master's  eye  is  on  us, 
Never  off  us,  still  upon  us, 

Night  and  day ! 

Work  away ! 
Keep  the  busy  fingers  plying, 
Keep  the  ceaseless  shuttles  flying. 
See  that  never  thread  lie  wrong ; 
Let  not  clash  or  clatter  round  us, 
Sound  of  whirring  wheels,  confound  us ; 


g48  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Steady  hand  !  let  woof  be  strong 
And  firm,  that  has  to  last  so  long  ! 
Work  away  ! 

2.  Keep  upon  the  anvil  ringing 
Stroke  of  hammer  ;  on  the  gloom^ 
Set  'twixt  cradle  and  the  tomb, 
Showers  of  fiery  sparkles  flinging ; 
Keep  the  mighty  furnace  glowing ; 

*     Keep  the  red  ore  hissing,  flowing 
Swift  within  the  ready  mold ; 
See  that  each  one  than  the  old 
Still  be  fitter,  still  be  fairer 
For  the  servant's  use,  and  rarer 
For  the  Master  to  behold  : 
Work  away  I 

3.  Work  away  ! 

For  the  Leader's  eye  is  on  us, 
Never  off  us,  still  upon  us, 

Night  and  day ! 
Wide  the  trackless  prairies  round  us, 
Dark  and  unsunned  woods  surround  ua. 
Steep  and  savage  mountains  bound  us ; 

Far  away 
Smile  the  soft  savannas  green, 
Kivers  sweep  and  roll  between : 

Work  away  ! 


Bring  your  axes,  woodmen  true  j 

Smite  the  forest  till  the  blue 

Of  heaven's  sunny  eye  looks  through 


NUMBER    FOUR.  349 

Every  wild  and  tangled  glade ; 
Jungled  swamp  and  thicket  shade 
Give  to  day ! 

5.  O'er  the  torrents  fling  your  bridges, 
Pioneers  !     Upon  the  ridges 

Widen,  smooth  the  rocky  stair, — 
They  that  follow  far  behind 
Coming  after  us,  will  find 

Surer,  easier  footing  there ; 
Heart  to  heart,  and  hand  with  hand, 
From  the  dawn  to  dusk  of  day, 

Work  away  ! 
Scouts  upon  the  mountain's  peak, — 

Ye  that  see  the  Promised  Land, 
Hearten  us  !  for  ye  can  speak 

Of  the  Country  ye  have  scanned, 
Far  away  ! 

6.  Work  away ! 

For  the  Father's  eye  is  on  us, 
Never  off  us,  still  upon  us, 

Night  and  day ! 

Work  and  Pray  1 
Pray !  and  Work  will  be  completer  ; 
Work  !  and  Prayer  will  be  the  sweeter ; 
Love !  and  Prayer  and  Work  the  fleeter 

Will  ascend  upon  their  way  I 

7.  Fear  not  lest  the  busy  finger 

Weave  a  net  the  soul  to  stay ; 
Give  her  wings, — she  will  not  linger. 
Soaring  to  the  source  of  day ; 


^50 


SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Cleaving  clouds  that  still  divide  us 

From  the  azure  depths  of  rest, 
She  will  come  again  !   beside  us, 

With  the  sunshine  on  her  breast, 
Sit,  and  sing  to  us,  while  quickest 

On  their  task  the  fingers  move, 
While  the  outward  din  wars  thickest. 

Songs  that  she  hath  learned  above. 

8.  Live  in  Future  as  in  Present ; 

W^ork  for  both  while  yet  the  day    ■ 
Is  our  own  !  for  lord  and  peasant. 

Long  and  bright  as  summer's  day, 
Cometh,  yet  more  sure,  more  pleasant, 
Cometh  soon  our  Holiday : 
Work  away ! 


LESSON  on. 

Prop  o  si"  tion,  proposal.  j  Am  bas'sa  dor,  messenger;  deputy. 
Ad  he'  sign,  attraction.  Nav'  i  ga  tor$,  voyagers ;  seamen. 

Absurd' I  TY,  folly;  nonsense.  j  Spec  u  la' tion,  theory;  mental  view. 

Vis' ION  A  RY,  fanciful;  imaginary.  |  En' ter pri$e,  attempt ;  undertaking. 
Discus' SIGN,  debate;  controversy.       Fri  vol'i  ty,  levity;  triflingness. 

The'  0  ry,  idea ;  scheme  of  doctrine.  1  Pre  $ent'  i  ment,  previous  notice. 

An  tip'  0  DE$,  (anti,  opposite;  podes,  the  feet;)  having  their  feet  opposite 
to  ours. 

*  Gen  0  e$e',  a  native  of  Genoa,7—a  famous  fortified  seaport  city  of 
Northern  Italy,  in  the  Sardmian  States. 

^  Lac  tan'  tius,  one  of  the  fathers  of  the  Latin  church,  born  about  the 
year  a.  d.  250.  He  was  celebrated  as  a  teacher  of  eloquence,  and  before  his 
conversion  to  Christianity,  had  so  successfully  studied  and  imitated  the  great 
Koman  orator  that  he  received  the  appellation  of  the  "  Christian  Cicero." 


NUMBER  FOUR.  35^ 

QUEEN  ISABELLA'S  RESOLVE* 

FEOM    YINET. 
QUEEIT   ISABELLA   OF   SPAIX,    DON    GOMEZ,    AND    COLUMBUS. 

Isabella.  And  so,  Don  Gomez,  it  is  your  conclusion  that 
we  ought  to  dismiss  the  proposition  of  this  worthy  Genoese/ 

Don  Gomez.  His  scheme,  your  majesty,  seems  to  me 
fanciful  in  the  extreme  ;  but  I  am  a  plain  matter-of-fact 
man,  and  do  not  see  visions  and  dreams,  like  some. 

Isa.  And  yet  Columbus  has  given  us  cogent  reasons  for 
believing  that  it  is  practicable  to  reach  the  eastern  coast  of 
India  by  sailing  in  a  westerly  direction. 

Don  G.  Admitting  that  his  theory  is  correct,  namely, 
that  the  earth  is  a  sphere,  how  would  it  be  possible  for  him 
to  return,  if  he  once  descended  that  sphere  in  the  direction 
he  proposes^  ?  Would  not  the  coming  back  be  all  up-hilF  ? 
Could  a  ship  accomplish  it  with  even  the  most  favorable 
wmd'  ? 

Columhus.  Will  your  majesty  allow  me  to  suggest  that, 
if  the  earth  is  a  sphere,  the  same  laws  of  adhesion  and 
motion  must  operate  at  every  point  on  its  surface ;  and  the 
objection  of  Don  Gomez  would  be  quite  as  valid  against  our 
being  able  to  return  from  crossing  the  Strait  of  Gibraltar. 

Don  G.  This  gentleman,  then,  would  have  us  believe  the 
monstrous  absurdity,  that  there  are  people  on  the  earth  who 
are  our  antipodes, — who  walk  with  their  heads  down,  like 
flies  on  the  ceiling. 

Col.  But,  your  majesty,  if  there  is  a  law  of  attraction 
which  makes  matter  gravitate  to  the  earth,  and  prevents  its 
flying  off  into  space,  may  not  this  law  operate  at  every 
point  on  the  round  earth's  surface'  ? 

Isa.  Truly,  it  so  seems  to  me;  and  I  perceive  nothing 
absurd  in  the  notion  that  this  earth  is  a  globe  floating  or 
revolving  in  space. 


352  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Don  G.  May  it  please  your  majesty,  the  ladies  are  priv- 
ileged to  give  credence  to  many  wild  tales  which  we  pkin 
matter-of-fact  men  can  not  admit.  Every  step  I  take,  con- 
futes this  visionary  idea  of  the  earth's  rotundity.  Would 
not  the  blood  run  into  my  head,  if  I  were  standing  upside 
down!  Were  I  not  fearful  of  offending  your  majesty,  I 
would  quote  what  the  great  Lactantius^  says. 

Isa.  We  are  not  vain  of  our  science,  Don  Gromez ;  so  let 
us  have  the  quotation. 

Do?i  G.  "Is  there  any  one  so  foolish,"  he  asks,  "as  to 
believe  that  there  are  antipodes  with  their  feet  opposite  to 
ours, — that  there  is  a  part  of  the  world  in  which  all  things 
are  topsy-turvy,  where  the  trees  grow  with  their  branches 
downward,  and  where  it  rains,  hails,  and  snows,  upward'  ?'' 

Col.  I  have  already  answered  this  objection.  If  there 
are  people  on  the  earth  who  are  our  antipodes,  it  should  be 
remembered  that  we  are  theirs  also. 

Don  G.  Really,  that  is  the  very  point  wherein  we  matter- 
of-fact  men  abide  by  the  assurance  of  our  own  senses.  We 
know  that  we  are  not  walking  with  our  heads  downward. 

Isa.  To  cut  short  the  discussion,  you  think  that  the  enter- 
prise which  the  Genoese  proposes,  is  one  unworthy  of  our 
serious  consideration ;  and  that  his  theory  of  an  unknown 
shore  to  the  westward  of  us  is  a  fallacy. 

Don  G,  As  a  plain  matter-of-fact  man,  I  must  confess 
that  I  so  regard  it.  Has  your  majesty  ever  seen  an  ambas- 
sador from  this  unknown  coast  ? 

Isa.  Don  Gomez,  do  you  believe  in  the  existence  of  n 
world  of  spirits?  Have  you  ever  seen  an  ambassador  from 
that  unknown  world  ? 

Do?i  G.  Certainly  not.     Ey  faith  we  look  forward  to  it. 

Isa.  Even  so  by  faith  does  the  Genoese  look  forward,  far 
over  misty  ocean,  to  an  undiscovered  shore. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  053 

Col.  Your  majesty  is  right ;  but  let  it  be  added  that  I 
have  reasons,  oh  !  most  potent  and  resistless  reasons,  for  the 
faith  that  is  in  me :  the  testimony  of  many  navigators 
who  have  picked  up  articles  that  must  have  drifted  from 
this  distant  coast :  the  nature  of  things,  admitting  that  the 
earth  is  round  :  the  reports  current  among  the  people  of  one 
of  the  northern  nations,  that  many  years  ago  their  mariners 
had  sailed  many  leagues  westward  till  they  reached  a  shore 
where  the  grape  grew  abundantly ;  these  and  other  consid- 
erations have  made  it  the  fixed  persuasion  of  my  mind,  that 
there  is  a  great  discovery  reserved  for  the  man  who  will  sail 
patiently  westward,  trusting  in  God's  good  providence,  and 
turning  not  back  till  he  has  achieved  his  purpose. 

Don  G.  Then  truly  we  should  never  hear  of  him  again. 
Speculation !  mere  speculation,  your  majesty  !  When  this 
gentleman  can  bring  forward  some  solid  facts  that  will  induce 
us  plain  matter-of-fact  men  to  risk  money  in  forwarding  his 
enterprise,  it  will  then  be  time  enough  for  royalty  to  give  it 
heed.  Why,  your  majesty,  the  very  boys  in  the  streets 
point  at  their  foreheads  as  he  passes  along. 

Isa.  And  so  you  bring  forward  the  frivolity  of  boys  jeer- 
ing at  what  they  do  not  comprehend,  as  an  argument  why 
Isabella  should  not  give  heed  to  this  great  and  glorious 
scheme?  Ay,  sir,  though  it  should  fail,  still,  it  has  been 
urged  in  language  so  intelligent  and  convincing,  by  this 
grave  and  earnest  man,  whom  you  think  to  undervalue  by 
calling  him  an  adventurer,  that  I  am  resolved  to  test  the 
''  absurdity,"  as  you  style  it,  and  that  forthwith. 

Don  G.  Your  majesty  will  excuse  me  if  I  remark,  that 
I  have  from  your  royal  consort  himself  the  assurance  that 
the  finances  are  so  exhausted  by  the  late  wars,  that  he  can 
not  consent  to  advance  the  necessary  funds  for  fitting  out  an 
expedition  of  the  kind  proposed. 

Isa.  Be  mine,  then,  the  privilege  !     I  have  jewels,  by 


354  SA^^DERS'    UNION    SERIES* 

the  pledging  of  which  I  can  raise  the  amount  required  ;  and 
I  have  resolved  that  they  shall  be  pledged  to  this  enterprise, 
without  any  more  delay. 

Col.  Your  majesty  shall  not  repent  your  heroic  resolve. 
I  will  return,  your  majesty ;  be  sure  I  will  return,  and  lay 
at  your  feet  such  a  jewel  as  never  queen  wore  yet,  an  im- 
perishable fame, — a  fame  that  shall  couple  with  your  mem- 
ory the  benedictions  of  millions  yet  unborn,  in  climes  yefc 
unknown  to  civilized  man.  There  is  an  uplifting  presenti- 
ment in  my  mind,  a  conviction  that  your  majesty  will  live 
to  bless  the  hour  you  came  to  this  decision. 

Don  G.  A  presentiment  ?  A  plain  matter-of-fact  man, 
like  myself,  must  take  leave  of  your  majesty,  if  his  practical 
common -sense  is  to  be  met  and  superseded  by  presentiments ! 
An  ounce  of  fact,  your  majesty,  is  worth  a  ton  of  presenti- 
ment. 

Isa.  That  depends  altogether  upon  the  source  of  the  pre- 
sentiment, Don  Gomez.  If  it  come  from  the  Fountain  of 
all  truth,  shall  it  not  be  good  ? 

Don  G,  I  humbly  take  my  leave  of  your  majesty. 

Questions. — 1.  "What  reasons  did  Don  Gomez  advance  in  proof  that  the 
earth  is  not  a  sphere?  2.  What  argument  did  Columbus  present  in  proof 
that  it  was?    3.  What  did  Queen  Isabella  resolve  to  do  ? 

LESSON    GUI. 

Con  firm'  ing,  corroborating.  >  He$  i  ta'  tion,  doubt. 

As  sur' AN  CE$,  assertions.  \  Enjoin'ing,  commanding;  ordering. 

Mu  Ti  neer',  one  who  resists  orders,  i  Am  phi  the'  a  ter,  circular  theater. 

In  fkr'  red,  concluded.  Con  trast'  ed,  set  in  opposition. 

Cray' ED,  begged.  De  mean' or,  behavior. 

As  so' CIA  ting,  joining;  connecting.     De  fault',  defect;  absence. 

Ex  pec  ta'  tion,  hope ;  a  looking  for.     In  sig'  nia,  marks ;  signs. 

Ver'  i  fi  ED,  made  true ;  realized.      I  In  i"  tial$,  first  letters. 

Phos  PHO  res' cence,  faint  light.         J  Dev  as  ta'tion,  a  laying  waste. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  35/3 

DISCOVERY   OF   THE  NEW   WORlcD. 

Lamartine. 

1.  At  sunrise,  on  the  second  day,  some  rushes  recently 
torn  up,  were  seen  near  the  vessels.  A  plank,  .evidently 
hewn  by  an  ax,  a  stick  skillfully  carved  by  some  cutting 
instrument,  a  bough  of  hawthorn  in  blossom, — and  lastly,  a 
bird  s  nest  built  on  a  branch  which  the  wind  had  broken,  and 
full  of  eggs,  on  which  the  parent  bird  was  sitting  amid  the 
gently-rolling  waves, — were  seen  floating  past  on  the  w^aters. 
The  sailors  brouorht  on  board  these  livino;  and  inanimate  wit- 
nesses  of  their  approach  to  land.  They  were  a  voice  from 
the  shore,  confirming  the  assurances  of  Columbus  Before 
the  land  actually  appeared  in  sight,  its  neighborhood  was 
inferred  from  these  marks  of  life. 

2.  The  mutineers  fell  on  their  knees  before  the  Admiral, 
whom  they  had  insulted  but  the  day  before,  craved  pardon 
for  their  mistrust,  and  struck  up  a  hymn  of  thanksgivmg  to 
God  for  associating  them  with  this  triumph.  Night  fell  on 
these  songs  welcoming  a  new  w^orld.  The  Admiral  gave 
orders  that  the  sails  should  be  close-reefed,  and  the  lead 
kept  going ;  and  that  they  should  sail  slowly,  being  afraid 
of  breakers  and  shoals,  and  feeling  certain  that  the  first 
gleam  of  daybreak  would  discover  land  under  their  bows. 

3.  On  the  last  anxious  night  none  slept.  Impatient  ex- 
pectation had  removed  all  heaviness  from  their  eyes;  the 
pilots  and  the  seamen,  clinging  about  the  masts,  yards,  and 
shrouds,  each  tried  to  keep  the  best  place  and  the  closest 
watch  to  get  the  earliest  sight  of  the  new  hemisphere.  The 
Admiral  had  offered  a  reward  to  the  first  who  should  cry 
JLand^  provided  his  announcement  was  verified  by  its  actual 
discovery. 

4.  Providence,  -however,   reserved   to   Columbus  himself 
this  first  glimpse,  which  he  had  purchased  at  the  expense  of 


356  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

twenty  years  of  his  life,  and  of  untiring  perseverance. 
While  walking  the  quarter-deck  alone,  at  midnight,  and 
sweeping  the  dark  horizon  with  his  keen  eye,  a  gleam  of  fire 
passed  and  disappeared,  and  again  showed  itself  on  the  level 
of  the  waves.  Fearful  of  being  deceived  by  the  phospho- 
rescence of  the  sea,  he  quietly  called  a  Spanish  gentleman  of 
Isabella's  court,  in  whom  he  had  more  confidence  than  in  the 
pilots,  pointed  out  the  direction  in  which  he  had  seen  the 
light,  and  asked  him  whether  he  could  discern  any  thing 
there. 

5.  He  replied  that  he  did,  indeed,  see  a  flickering  light 
in  that  quarter.  To  make  the  fact  still  more  sure,  Colum- 
bus called  another  in  whom  he  had  confidence  to  look  in  the 
same  direction.  He  said  he  had  no  hesitation  in  pronounc- 
ing that  there  was  a  light  on  the  horizon.  But  the  blaze 
was  hardly  seen  before  it  again  disappeared  in  the  ocean,  to 
show  itself  anew  the  next  moment.  Whether  it  was  the  light 
of  a  fire  on  a  low  shore,  alternately  appearing  and  disap- 
pearing beyond  the  broken  horizon,  or  whether  it  was  the 
floating  beacon  of  a  fisherman's  boat  now  rising  on  the  waves, 
and  now  sinking  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  they  could  not 
determine. 

6.  Thus  both  land  and  safety  appeared  together  in  the 
shape  of  fire  to  Columbus  and  his  two  friends,  on  the  night 
between  the  11th  and  12th  of  October,  1492.  The  Admiral, 
enjoining  silence,  kept  his  observation  to  himself,  for  fear  of 
again  raising  false  hopes,  and  giving  a  bitter  disappoinment 
to  his  ships'  companies.  He  lost  sight  of  the  light,  and  re- 
mained on  deck  until  two  in  the  morning, — praying,  hoping, 
and  despairing  alone,  awaiting  the  triumph  or  the  return  on 
which  the  morrow  was  to  decide. 

7.  He  was  seized  with  that  anguish  which  precedes  the 
great  discoveries  of  truth,  when,  suddenly,  a  cannon-shot, 


NUMBER    FOUR.  £57 

sounding  over  tlie  sea,  a  few  hundred  yards  in  advance  of 
him,  burst  upon  his  ear  the  announcement  of  a  new-horn 
ivorldj  which  made  him  tremble  and  fall  upon  his  knees.  It 
was  the  signal  of  land  in  sight !  made  by  firing  a  shot,  as 
had  been  arranged  with  the  Pinta^  which  was  sailing  in 
advance  of  the  squadron,  to  guide  their  course  and  take 
soundings. 

8.  At  this  signal  a  general  shout  oi '-'- Land  ho  P^  arose 
from  all  the  yards  and  riggings  of  the  ships.  The  sails  were 
furled,  and  daybreak  was  anxiously  awaited.  The  mystery 
of  the  ocean  had  breathed  its  first  whisper  in  the  bosom  of 
night.  Daybreak  would  clear  it  up  openly  to  every  eye. 
Delicious  and  unknown  perfumes  reached  the  vessels  from 
the  outline  of  the  shore,  w^ith  the  roar  of  the  waves  upon  the 
reefs  and  the  soft  land  breeze. 

9.  The  fire  seen  by  Columbus  indicated  the  presence  of 
man,  and  of  the  first  element  of  civilization.  Never  did  the 
night  appear  so  long  in  clearing  away  from  the  horizon ;  for 
this  horizon  was  to  Columbus  and  his  companions  a  second 
creation  of  God.  The  dawn,  as  it  spread  over  the  sky, 
gradually  raised  the  shores  of  an  island  from  the  waves.  Its 
distant  extremities  were  lost  in  the  morning  mist.  It  as- 
cended gradually,  like  an  amphitheater,  from  tlie  low  beach 
to  the  summit  of  the  hills,  whose  dark-green  covering  con- 
trasted strongly  with  the  blue  heavens. 

10.  Within  a  few  paces  from  where  the  foam  of  the  waves 
breaks  on  the  yellow  sand,  forests  of  tall  and  unknown  trees 
stretched  away,  one  above  another,  over  the  successive  ter- 
races of  the  island.  Green  valleys  and  bright  clefts  in  the 
hollows,  afibrded  a  half  glimpse  into  these  mysterious  wilds. 
Here  and  there  could  be  discovered  a  few  scattered  huts, 
which,  with  their  outlines  and  roofs  of  dry  loaves,  looked 
like  bee-hives,  and  thin  columns  of  blue  smoke  rose-  above 


558  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

the  tops  of  the  trees.  Half-naked  groups  of  men,  women, 
and  children,  more  astonished  than  frightened,  appeared 
among  the  thickets  near  the  shore,  advancing  timidly,  and 
tlien  drawing  back,  exhibiting,  by  their  gestures  and  de- 
meanor, as  much  fear  as  curiosity  and  wonder,  at  the  sight 
of  these  strange  vessels,  which  the  previous  night  had 
brought  to  their  shores. 

11.  Columbus,  after  gazing  in  silence  on  this  foremost 
shore  of  the  land  so  often  determined  by  his  calculations, 
and  so  magnificently  colored  by  his  imagination,  found  it  to 
exceed  even  his  own  expectations.  He  burned  with  impa- 
tience to  be  the  first  European  to  set  foot  on  the  sand,  and 
to  plant  the  flag  of  Spain, — the  standard  of  the  conquest  of 
God  and  of  his  sovereigns,  effected  by  bis  genius.  But  he 
restrained  the  eagerness  of  himself  and  of  bis  crew  to  land, 
being  desirous  of  giving  to  the  act  of  taking  possession  of  a 
new  world,  a  solemnity  worthy  of  the  greatest  deed,  perhaps, 
ever  accomplished  by  a  seaman  ;  and,  m  default  of  men,  to 
call  God  and  His  angels,  sea,  earth,  and  sky,  as  witnesses 
of  his  conquest  of  an  unknown  hemisphere. 

12.  He  put  on  all  the  insignia  of  his  dignities  as  Admiral 
of  the  Ocean,  and  the  Viceroy  of  these  future  realms ;  he 
wrapped  himself  in  his  purple  cloak,  and,  taking  in  his  hand 
an  embroidered  flag,  in  which  the  initials  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella  were  interlaced,  like  their  two  kingdoms,  and,  sur- 
mounted by  a  crown,  he  entered  his  boat,  and  pulled  toward 
the  shore,  followed  by  the  boats  of  his  two  lieutenants. 

13.  On  landing,  he  fell  on  his  knees,  to  acknowledge,  by 
this  act  of  humility  and  worship,  the  goodness  and  greatness 
of  God  in  this  new  sphere  of  his  works.  He  kissed  the 
ground,  and,  with  his  face  on  the  earth,  he  wept  tears  of 
double  import,  as  they  fell  on  the  dust  of  this  hemisphere, 
now,  for  the  first  time,  visited  by  Europeans, — tears  of  joy 


NUMBER    FOUR.  359 

for  the  overflowing  of  a  proud  spirit,  grnteful  and  pious, — 
tears  of  sadness  for  this  virgin  soil,  seeming  to  foreshadow 
the  calamities,  and  devastation,  with  fire  and  sword,  and 
blood  and  destruction,  which  the  strangers  were  to  bring 
with  their  pride,  their  knowledge,  and  their  power. 

14.  It  was  the  man  that  shed  these  tears  ;  but  it  was  the 
earth  that  was  destined  to  weep.  As  Columbus  raised  his 
forehead  from  the  dust,  with  a  Latin  prayer,  which  his  com- 
panions have  handed  down  to  us,  he  thus  addressed  the  Sov- 
ereign Ruler  of  the  world:  (.9/.)  "Almighty  and  eternal 
God,  who,  by  the  energy  of  Thy  creative  word,  hast  made 
the  firmament,  the  earth,  and  sea,  blessed  and  glorified  be 
Thy  name  in  all  places  !  May  Thy  majesty  and  dominion  be 
exalted  forever  and  ever,  as  Thou  hast  permitted  Thy  holy 
name  to  be  made  known  and  spread  by  the  most  humble  of 
Thy  servants,  in  this  hitherto  unknow^n  portion  of  Thy  em- 
pire." 

15.  He  then  gave  to  this  land  the  name  of  San  Salvador. 
His  lieutenants,  his  pilots,  and  his  seamen,  full  of  gladness, 
and  impressed  with  a  superstitious  respect  for  him  whose 
glance  had  pierced  beyond  the  visible  horizon,  and  whom 
they  had  offended  by  their  unbelief, — overcome  by  the  evi- 
dence of  their  eyes,  and  by  that  mental  superiority  which 
overawes  the  minds  of  men, — fell  at  the  feet  of  the  Admiral, 
kissed  his  hands  and  his  clothes,  and  recognized,  for  a  mo- 
ment, the  power  and  the  almost  divine  nature  of  genius ;  yes- 
terday the  victims  of  his  obstinacy, — 7iow  the  companions  of 
his  success,  and  sharers  in  the  glory  which  they  had  mocked. 
Such  is  humanity, — persecuting  discoverers,  yet  reaping  the 
fruits  of  their  inventions. 

Questions. — 1.  "What  evidences  had  Columbus  that  land  was  near  ?  2. 
What  did  the  mutineers  do  ?  3.  In  what  month  and  year  was  the  neun 
world  discovered?  4.  "What  is  said  of  the  natives?  5.  What,  of  Colmn 
bus,  as  he  landed  ? 


360  SASDERS'    USION    SERIES. 


LESSON    CIV. 

Fee'  ment,  heat ;  glow.  <  Pre  pos'  ter  ous,  absurd ;  ridiculous. 

En  thu'  $i  a$m,  excitement.  j  Yaunt'  ed,  boasted. 
Pro  dig'  ious,  very  great.  De  lu'  sion,  deception. 

Spec'  i  men$,  samples.  <  Cred'  u  lous,  apt  to  believe. 

Leagu'ed,  joined;  banded.  j  Un  re  li' a  ble,  untrustworthy. 

Persuad'ed,  convinced  ]  Sus  pi"  CION,  doubt;  mistrust. 


THE    RETURN    OF    COLUMBUS. 

DON   GOMEZ  AND   HIS  SECRETARY. 

Don  Gomez.  What  !  what  is  this  jou  tell  me  ?  Co- 
lumbus returned  ?     A  new  w^orld  discovered  ?     Impossible  ! 

Secretary.  It  is  even  so,  sir.  A  courier  arrived  at  the 
palace  but  an  hour  since  with  the  intelligence.  Columbus 
was  driven  bj  stress  of  weather  to  anchor  in  the  Tagus.  All 
Portugal  is  in  a  ferment  of  enthusiasm,  and  all  Spain  will 
be  equally  excited  soon.     The  sensation  is  prodigious  ! 

Don  G.  Oh,  it  is  a  trick  !     It  must  be  a  trick  ! 

Sec.  But  he  has  brought  home  the  proofs  of  his  visit, — 
gold  and  precious  stones,  strange  plants  and  animals ;  and, 
above  all,  specimens  of  a  new  race  of  men,  copper-colored, 
with  straight  hair. 

Don  G.  Still  I  say,  a  trick  !  He  has  been  coasting  along 
the  African  shore,  and  there  collected  a  few  curiosities,  which 
he  is  passing  off  for  proofs  of  his  pretended  discovery. 

Sec.  It  is  a  little  singular  that  all  his  men  should  be 
leagued  with  him  in  keeping  up  so  unprofitable  a  falsehood. 

Don.  G.  But  'tis  against  reason,  against  common  sense, 
that  such  a  discovery  should  be  made. 

Sec.  King  John  of  Portugal  has  received  him  with  royal 
magnificence,  has  listened  to  his  accounts,  and  is  persuaded 
that  they  are  true. 


]VU?J3ER    rOUR 


861 


Don  G.  We  shall  see,  we  shall  see.  Look  jou,  sir,  a 
plain  matter-of-fact  man,  such  as  I,  is  not  to  be  taken  in  bj 
any  such  preposterous  storj  !  This  vaunted  discovery  will 
turn  out  no  discovery  at  all. 

Sec.  The  king  and  queen  have  given  orders  for  prep- 
arations on  the  most  magnificent  scale  for  the  reception  of 
Columbus. 

Don.  G.  What  delusion  !  Her  majesty  is  so  credulous  ! 
A  practical,  common-sense  man,  like  myself,  can  find  no 
points  of  sympathy  in  her  nature. 

Sec.  The  Indians  on  board  the  returned  vessels,  are  sala 
to  be  unlike  any  known  race  of  men. 

Don  G.  Very  unreliable  all  that !  I  take  the  common- 
sense  view  of  the  thing.  I  am  a  matter-of-fact  man ,  and 
do  you  remember  what  I  say,  it  will  all  turn  out  a  trick  I 
The  crews  may  have  been  deceived.  Columbus  may  have 
steered  a  southerly  course,  instead  of  a  westerly.  Any 
thing  is  probable,,  rather  than  that  a  coast  to  the  westward 
of  us  has  been  discovered. 

Sec.  I  saw  the  courier,  who  told  me  he  had  conversed 
with  all  the  sailors ;  and  they  laughed  at  the  suspicion  that 
there  could  be  any  mistake  about  the  discovery,  or  that  any 
other  than  a  westerly  course  had  been  steered. 

Doti  G.  Still  I  say,  a  trick  !  An  unknown  coast  reached 
by  steering  west?  Impossible !  The  earth  a  globe,  and 
men  standing  with  their  heads  down  in  space  ?  Folly  !  An 
iojnorant  Sailor  from  Genoa  in  the  ri^ht,  and  all  our  learned 
doctors  and  philosophers  in  the  wrong  ?  Nonsense  !  I'm 
a  matter-of-fact  man,  sir.  I  will  believe  what  I  can  see,  and 
handle,  and  understand.  But  as  for  believing  in  the  antip- 
odes, or  that  the  earth  is  round,  or  that  Columbus  has  dis- 
covered land  to  the  west, Ring  the  bell,  sir,  call  my 

carriage ;  I  will  go  to  the  palace  and  undeceive  the  king. 
4U  16 


3Q2  SAMDERS'    UJSIOM    SERIES. 

LESSON    OV. 

Har'  bin  ger,  forerunner ;  precursor.  J  De  cree$'  edicts ;  laws. 

Un  pil'lar  ED,  unsupported  b  J  pillars.  I  Hal' low  ed,  sacred;  consecrated, 

Cn  yield'  ing,  stubborn.  \  Mold'  er  ing,  decaying. 

TWO    HUMORED    YEARS    AGO* 

Gkenvillb  Meulibt. 

1.  Wake  your  harp's  music  ! — louder, — higher, 

And  pour  your  strains  along ; 
And  smite  again  each  quivering  wire, 

In  all  the  pride  of  song ! 
(y.)  Shout  like  those  godlike  men  of  old, 

Who,  daring  storm  and  foe, 
On  this  blessed  soil  their  anthem  rolled, 

Two  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO  ! 

2.  From  native  shores  by  tempests  driven, 

They  sought  a  purer  sky  ; 
And  found,  beneath  a  milder  heaven. 

The  home  of  Liberty  ! 
An  altar  rose, — and  prayers, — a  ray 
^  Broke  on  their  night  of  woe, — 

The  harbinger  of  Freedom's  day, 

Two  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO  ! 

8.  They  clung  around  that  symbol  too. 

Their  refuge  and  their  all ; 
And  swore,  while  skies  and  waves  were  blue, 

That  altar  should  not  fall ! 
They  stood  upon  the  red  man's  sod, 

'Neath  heaven's  unpillared  bow, 
With  home, — a  country,  and  a  God, — 

Two  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO  I 


NUMBER    rOUR.  gg^ 


4.  Oh !  'twas  a  hard,  unyielding  fate 
That  drove  them  to  the  seas ; 

And  Persecution  strove  with  Hate, 
To  darken  her  decrees  : 

But  safe,  above  each  coral  grave, 
Each  booming  ship  did  go, — 

A  God  was  on  the  western  wave, — 

Two  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO  I 


They  knelt  them  on  the  desert  sand, 

By  waters  cold  and  rude, 
Alone  upon  the  dreary  strand 

Of  oceaned  solitude  ! 
They  looked  upon  the  high,  blue  air, 

And  felt  their  spirits  glow, 
Resolved  to  live  or  perish  there, — 

Two  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO  ! 


6.  The  warrior's  red  right  arm  was  bared. 
His  eyes  flashed  deep  and  wild : 

Was  there  a  foreign  footstep  dared 
JTo  seek  his  home  and  child'  ? 

The  dark  chiefs  yelled  alarm,  and  swor» 
The  white  man's  blood  should  flow, 

And  his  hewn  bones  should  bleach  their  shore. 

Two  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO  I 


7.  But  lo  !  the  warrior's  eye  grew  dim, — 
His  arm  was  left  alone ; 
The  still,  black  wilds  which  sheltered  him, 
No  longer  were  his  own  ! 


354  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Time  fled, — and  on  the  hallowed  ground 

His  highest  pine  lies  low, — 
And  cities  swell  where  forests  frowned, 

Two  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO  ! 

8.  Oh  I  stay  not  to  recount  the  tale, — 

'T was  bloody,  and  'tis  past; 
The  firmest  cheek  might  well  grow  pale, 

To  hear  it  to  the  last. 
The  God  of  Heaven  who  prospers  us, 

Could  bid  a  nation  grow. 
And  shield  us  from  the  red  man's  curse, — 

Two  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO  I 

9.  Come,  then, — great  shades  of  glorious  men, 

From  your  still  glorious  grave  I 
Look  on  your  own  proud  land  again, 

0  bravest  of  the  brave  ! 
We  call  you  from  each  moldering  tomb. 

And  each  blue  wave  below. 
To  bless  the  world  ye  snatched  from  doom, — 

Two  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO  ! 

10.  Then  to  your  harps  !— yet  louder,— higher 
And  pour  your  strains  along ; 
And  smite  again  each  quivering  wire, 
In  all  the  pride  of  song ! 
(/.)  Shout  for  those  godlike  men  of  old, 
Who,  daring  storm  and  foe, 
On  this  blessed  soil  their  anthem  rolled, 

Two  HUNDRED  YEARS  AGO  ! 

Questions.—!.  "Who  are  meant  by  godlike,  men  of  old  f     2.  Why  did 
they  flee  to  this  country  ?     3.  Who  warred  against  them  ? 


JSiUHBiSR    FOOR.  355 

'    LESSON    OVI. 

Sb  rene'  ly,  calmly ;  quietly.  {  Mail,  defensive  armor. 

Surmount',  rise  above;  overcome.    )  Exalt',  lift  up. 
Tramp,  tread,  or  travel.  \  Frail'  ty,  weakness. 

Eb'  on,  black,  as  ebony.  J  Blight'  ed,   blasted. 

Guard'  i  an,  defender ;  protector.      |  Re  nown',  fame ;  celebrity. 
Ciiiv'  al  rig,  brave ;  heroic.  ]  Stead'  fast,  firm  ;  resolute. 

In  ter  vene',  (inter,  between .  vene,  to  come ;)  come  between ;  interpose. 

Succeed',  sue,  after;  ceed,  to  come ;)  come  after;  follow. 

PRESS    OM* 

Paek  Benjamih, 

1.  Press  on  !  there's  no  such  word  as  fail ! 

Press  nobly  on !  the  goal  is  near, — 
Ascend  the  mountain  !  breast  the  gale  !   . 

Look  upward,  onward, — never  fear  ! 
Why  shouldst  thou  faint  ?     Heaven  smiles  above, 

Though  storms  and  vapor  intervene ; 
That  Sun  shines  on,  whose  name  is  Love, 

Serenely  o'er  Life's  shadowed  scene. 

2.  Press  on  !  surmount  the  rocky  steeps, 

Climb  boldly  o'er  the  torrent's  arch : 
He  fails  alone  who  feebly  creeps ; 

He  wins,  who  dares  the  hero's  march. 
Be  thou  a  hero  1   let  thy  might 

Tramp  on  eternal  snows  its  way,  ^ 

And,  through  the  ebon  walls  of  night, 

Hew  down  a  passage  unto  day. 

3.  Press  on  !  if  once  and  twice  thy  feet 

Slip  back  and  stumble,  harder  try  ,- 
From  him  who  never  dreads  to  meet 
Danger  and  death,  they're  sure  to  fly. 


gQQ  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

To  coward  ranks  the  bullet  speeds  ; 

While  on  their  breasts  who  never  quail, 
Gleams,  guardian  of  chivalric  deeds,    • 

Bright  courage,  like  a  coat  of  mail. 

4.  Press  on  !  if  Fortune  play  thee  false 

To-day,  to-morrow  she'll  be  true ; 
Whom  now  she  sinks  she  now  exalts, 

Taking  old  gifts  and  granting  new. 
The  wisdom  of  the  present  hour 

Makes  up  her  follies  past  and  gone : 
To  weakness  strength  succeeds,  and  power 

From  frailty  springs ; — press  on  !  press  Olf ! 

5.  Press  on  !  what  though  upon  the  ground 

Thy  love  has  been  poured  out  like  rain? 
That  happiness  is  always  found 

The  sweetest,  which  is  born  of  pain. 
Oft  'mid  the  forest's  deepest  glooms, 

A  bird  sings  from  some  blighted  tree, 
And,  in  the  dreariest  desert,  blooms 

A  never-dying  rose  for  thee. 

6.  Therefore,  press  on  !  and  reach  the  goal, 

And  gain  the  prize^  and  wear  the  crown : 
Faint  not !  for,  to  the  steadfast  soul. 

Come  wealth,  and  lienor,  and  renown. 
To  thine  own  self  be  true,  and  keep 

Thy  mind  from  sloth,  thy  heart  from  soil ; 
Press  oni  and  thou  shalt  surely  reap 

A  heavenly  harvest  for  thy  toil ! 

Questions. — 1.  What  encouragement  is  given  to  those  who  press  on? 
2.  Whq  fails,  and  who  wins  ?  3.  "What  is  said  of  those  who  never  dread  to 
meet  danger  and  death  ?     4.  How  are  they  rewarded,  who  press  on  ? 


HUMBER    FOUR.  267 

LESSON    OVII. 

Expand',  develop;  enlarge.  )  Oeles'tial,  heavenh'. 

El'  e  vate,  raise  ;  digniiy.  j  Dis'  Si  pates,  scatters,  or  confuses. 

Va'  ri  a  ble,  changeable.  In  fin'  i  ty,  boundlessness. 

Phan  ta$  ma  go'ri  a,  magic  lantern;  \  Gym  nas'  tic,  athletic  exercise. 

illusive  representations.  <  0  pac'  i  ty,   state  of  being  opaque 

Un'  du  la  ting,  waving ;  irregular.  <      or  dark. 

Mo  bil'  i  ty,   movableness ;    readi-  Pa  thet'  ic,  feeling ;  tender. 

ness  to  move.  \  In  dom'  i  ta  ble,  unconquerable. 

Doc'lLE,  teachable;  obedient.  /  Co-op' ER ate,  work  with  ;  join  with. 

'  Mount  Per'  du,  one  of  the  high  summits  of  the  Pyrenees  mountains,  in 
Spain.  The  name  signifies  "Lost  Mountain;"  in  allusion,  probably,  to  its 
peak  bemg  lost  in  the  clouds. 

THE  THREE  FORMS  OF  MATURE* 

From  the  Frekcii  op  Michelet. 

1.  There  are  three  forms  of  Nature,  which  especially 
expand  and  elevate  our  souls,  release  her  from  her  heavy  clay 
and  earthly  limits,  and  send  her,  exulting,  to  sail  amidst  the 
wonders  and  mysteries  of  the  Infinite.  First,  there  is  the 
variable  Ocea?i  of.  Air  with  its  glorious  banquet  of  light, 
its  vapors,  its  twilight,  and  its  shifting  phantasmagoria  of 
capricious  creatures,  coming  into  existence  only  to  depart 
the  next  instant. 

2.  Second,  there  is  the  fixed  Ocean  of  the  Earth,  its 
undulating  and  vast  waves,  as  we  see  them  from  the  tops  of 
"earth  o'er  gazing  mountains,"  the  elevations  which  testify 
its  antique  mobility,  and  the  sublimity  of  its  mightier  mount- 
ains, clad  in  eternal  snows.  Third,  there  is  the  Ocean  of 
Waters,  less  mobile  than  air,  less  fixed  than  earth,  but 
docile  in  its  movements,  to  the  celestial  l^)die3. 

3.  These  three  things  form  the  gamut  by  which  the  In- 
finite speaks  to  our  souls.  Nevertheless,  let  us  point  out 
some   rery  notable  difterences.     The  Air-ocean  is  so  mobile 


3(58  SANDERS*   UNION   SERIES. 

that  we  can  scarcely  examine  it.     It  deceives ;  it  decoys ;  it 
diverts ;  it  dissipates,  and  breaks  up  our  chain  of  thought. 

4.  For  an  instant,  it  is  an  immense  hope,  the  day  of  an 
infinity ;  anon,  it  is  not  so  ;  all  flies  from  before  us,  and  our 
hearts  are  grieved,  agitated,  and  filled  with  doubt.  Why 
have  I  been  permitted  to  see  for  a  moment  that  immense 
flood  of  light  ?  The  memory  of  that  brief  gleaming  must 
ever  abide  with  me,  and  that  memory  makes  all  things  here 
on  earth  look  dark.  , 

5.  The  fixed  Ocean  of  the  mountains  is  not  thus  tran- 
sient or  fugitive ;  on  the  contrary,  it  stops  us  at  every  step, 
and  imposes  upon  us  the  necessity  of  a  very  hard,  though 
wholesome  gymnastic.  Contemplation  here  has  to  be  bought 
at  the  price  of  the  most  violent  action.  Nevertheless,  the 
opacity  of  the  earth,  like  the  transparency  of  the  air,  fre- 
quently deceives  and  bewilders  us.  Who  can  forget  that, 
for  ten  years,  Ramon,  in  vain,  sought  to  reach  Mount  Perdu\ 
though  often  within  sight  of  it  ? 

6.  Great,  very  great,  is  the  difference  between  the  two 
elements ;  the  earth  is  mute  and  the  ocean  speaks.  The 
ocean  is  a  voice.  It  speaks  to  the  distant  stars ;  it  answers 
to  their  movements  in  its  deep  and  solemn  language.  It 
speaks  to  the  earth  on  the  shores,  replying  to  the  echoes 
that  reply  again ;  by  turns  wailing,  soothing,  threatening, 
its  deepest  roar  is  presently  succeeded  by  a  sad,  pathetic  sigh. 

7.  And  it  especially  addresses  itself  to  man.  It  has 
creation's  living  eloquence.  It  is  Life  speaking  to  Life! 
The  millions,  the  countless  myriads  of  beings  to  which  it 
gives  birth,  are  its  words.  All  these,  mingled  together, 
make  the  unity,  i^  great  and  solemn  voice  of  the  ocean. 
And  *'what  are  those  wild  waves  saying?"  They  are  tell- 
ing of  Life^ — of  Immortality. 

8.  An  indomitable  strength  is  at  the  bottom  of  Nature, 


NUMBER    FOUR.  gg9 

how  much  more  so  at  Nature's  summit,  the  Soul !  And  it 
speaks  of  partnership,  of  union.  Let  us  accept  the  swift 
exchange  which,  in  the  individual,  exists  between  the  diverse 
elements;  let  us  accept  the  superior  Law  which  unites  the 
living  members  of  the  same  body — Humanity;  and,  still 
more,  let  us  accept  and  respect  the  supreme  Law  which 
makes  us  cooperate  with  the  great  Soul,  associated  as  we 
are — in  proportion  with  our  powers — with  the  loving  har- 
mony of  the  world — copartners  in  the  life  of  God. 

Questions. — 1.  What  are  three  great  forms  of  Nature  ?     2.  What  is  said 
of  the  Air-ocean  ?     3.  How  does  the  Ocean  address  itself  to  man  ? 


^^^^^.£^^6^^^-^ 


LESSON    OVIII. 

Mo  nop'  0  LIZ  ED,  engrossed.  I  Ec  cen  trio'  i  ty,  peculiarity ;  odd- 

Cel'e  BRA  TED,  praised ;  talked  of.     /  Wa' Ri  ness,  cautiousness.         [ity. 
Po'  TENT  LY,  powerfully.  i  Ed'  i  ble,  eatable. 

Mar'  I  TIME,  pertaining  to  sea.  j  E  man'  ci  pa  ted,  freed ;  liberated. 

Sa  Gac'  I  TY,  acuteness.  |  In  ter  me'  di  ate,  lying  between. 

In  tre  pid'  I  TY,  daring  valor.  j  Dev'  as  ta  ting,  laying  waste. 

San'  guine,  bloody ;  cruel.  \  Doub'  le,  sail  around. 

^  Basques,  {basks.)  an  ancient  and  peculiar  people,  living  on  the  slopes 
of  the  Pyrenees  Mountains. 

2  Bre'  ton,  a  native  of  Brittany,  an  ancient  province  in  France. 

^  Nor'  man,  that  is,  Northman,  a  name  given  to  the  ancient  inhabitants 
of  Norway,  Denmark,  and  Sweden,  and,  afterward  to  their  descendants 
who  settled  in  the  north  of  France. 

THE  WHALE  AND  THE  WHALER* 

Feom  the  French  of  Michelet. 

1.  Who  opened  up  to  men  the  great  distant  navigation  ? 

Who  revealed  the  ocean,  and  marked  out  its  zones  and  its 

liquid  highways  ?     Who  discovered  the  secrets  of  the  globe  ? 

The  Whale  and  the  Whaler  I     And  all  this  before  Colum- 

4U  16* 


370  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

bus  and  the  famous  gold-seekers,  who  have  monopolized  all 
the  glory,  found  again,  with  much  outcry  about  their  dis- 
covery, what  had  so  long  before  been  discovered  by  the 
whalers. 

2.  That  crossing  of  the  ocean,  which  was  so  boastfully 
celebrated  in  the  fifteenth  century,  had  often  been  made,  not 
only  by  the  narrow  passage  between  Iceland  and  Greenland, 
but,  also,  by  the  open  sea ;  for  the  Basques'  went  to  New- 
foundland. The  smallest  danger  was  the  mere  voyage ;  for 
these  men,  who  went  to  the  very  end  of  the  then  known  world, 
to  challenge  the  whale  to  single  combat,  to  steer  right  away 
into  the  Northern  Sea,  to  attack  the  mighty  monster,  amid 
darkness  and  storms,  with  the  dense  fog  all  around,  and  the 
foaming  waves  below, — those  who  could  do  this,  were  not  the 
men  to  shrink  from  the  ordinary  dangers  of  the  voyage. 

8.  Noble  warfare  !  Great  school  of  courage  !  That  fish- 
ery was  not  then^  as  it  is  now^  an  easy  war  to  wage,  made 
from  a  distance,  and  with  a  potently  murderous  machine. 
No ;  the  fisher  then  struck  with  his  own  strong  hand,  im- 
pelled and  guided  by  his  own  fearless  heart,  and  he  risked 
life  to  take  life.  The  men  of  that  day  killed  but  few 
whales ;  but  they  gained  infinitely  in  maritime  ability,  in 
patience,  in  sagacity,  and  in  intrepidity.  They  brought 
back  less  of  oil ;   but  more^  far  more  of  glory. 

4.  Every  nation  has  its  own  peculiar  genius.  We  recog- 
nize each  by  its  own  style  of  procedure.  There  are  a  hun- 
dred forms  of  courage,  and  these  graduated  varieties  formed, 
as  it  were,  another  heroic  game.  At  the  North,  the  Scan- 
dinavian, the  rude  race  from  Norway  to  Flanders,  had  their 
sanguine  fury.  At  the  South,  the  wild  burst,  the  gay  daring, 
the  clear-headed  excitement,  that  impelled,  at  once,  and  guided 
them  over  the  world.  In  the  center,  the  silent  and  patient 
firmness  of  the  Breton',  who  yet,  in  the  hour  of  danger, 


NUMBER    FOUR.  37I 

could  display  a  quite  sublime  eccentricity.  And,  lastly,  the 
Norman^  wariness,  considerately  courageous  ;  daring  all,  but 
daring  all  for  success.  Such  was  the  beauty  of  man,  in  that 
sovereign  manifestation  of  human  courage. 

5.  We  owe  a  vast  deal  to  the  whale.  But  for  it,  the  fish- 
ers would  still  have  hugged  the  shore;  for,  almost  every 
edible  fish  seeks  the  shore  and  the  river.  It  was  the  whale 
that  emancipated  them,  and  led  them  afar.  It  led  them  on- 
ward, and  onward  still,  until  they  found  it,  after  having 
almost  unconsciously  passed  from  one  world  to  the  other, 
Greenland  did  not  seduce  them;  it  was  not  the  land  that 
they  sought ;    but  the  sea^  and  the  tracks  of  the  whale. 

6.  The  ocean  at  large  is  its  home,  and  especially  the 
broad  and  open  sea.  Each  species  has  its  especial  prefer- 
ence for  this  or  that  latitude, — for  a  certain  zone  of  water, 
more  or  less  cold.  And  it  was  that  preference  which 
traced  out  the  great  divisions  of  the  Atlantic.  The  tribe  of 
inferior  whales,  that  have  a  dorsal  fin,  are  to  be  found  in  the 
warmest  and  in  the  coldest  seas, — under  the  line  and  in  the 
polar  seas. 

7.  In  the  great  intermediate  region,  the  fierce  Cachalot 
inclines  toward  the  south,  devastating  the  warm  waters.  On 
the  contrary,  the  Free  Whale  fears  the  warm  waters, — we 
should  rather  say,  that  they  did,  formerly,  fear  them, — they 
have  become  so  scarce.  They  are  never  found  in  the  warm 
southern  current ;  it  is  that  fact  that  led  to  the  current 
being  noticed,  and  thence  to  the  discovery  of  the  tnie  course 
from  America  to  Europe.  From  Europe  to  America,  the 
trade  winds  will  serve  us. 

8.  If  the  Free  Whale  has  a  perfect  horror  of  the  warm 
waters,  and  can  not  pass  the  equator,  it  is  clear  that  he  can 
not  double  the  southern  end  of  America.  How  happens  it, 
then,  that  when  he  is  wounded  on  one  side  of  America,  in 


372  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

the  Atlantic,  he  is  sometimes  found  on  the  other  side  of 
America,  and  in  the  Pacific  ?  It  proves  that  there  is  a 
north-western  passage.  Another  discovery  which  we  owe 
to  the  whale,  and  one  which  throws  a  broad  light  alike  on 
the  form  of  the  globe,  and  the  geography  of  the  seas  ! 

9.  By  degrees,  the  whale  has  led  us  eyerywhere.  Kare 
as  he  is  at  present,  he  has  led  us  to  both  poles,  from  the 
uttermost  recesses  of  the  Pacific  to  Behring's  Strait,  and  the 
infinite  wastes  of  the  Antarctic  waters.  There  is  even  an 
enormous  region  that  no  vessel,  whether  war  ship  or  mer- 
chantman, ever  traverses,  at  a  few  degrees  beyond  the  south- 
ern points  of  America  and  Africa.  No  one  visits  that 
region  but  the  whaler. 

Questions. — 1.  What  has  been  done  by  the  -whaler?  2.  By  whom  had 
Newfoundland  been  discovered  ?  3.  "What  is  said  of  the  courage  of  the 
whaler  ?  4.  "What  proof  is  given  that  there  is  a  north-western  passage,  by 
water,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  ? 


-*^5e5SP;^Pg* 


LESSON    OIX. 

ThrA-Ll'  DOM,  bondage ;  slavery.         j  Ruf'  fian,  robber ;  cut-throat. 

Ig  no'  ble,  mean ;  degraded.  \  Serv'  ile,  slavish ;  cringing. 

Horde,  clan ;  tribe.  i  Iam!  ner$,  painters. 

Feud'  al,  pertaining  to  military  tenure.!  Dis  ci'  ple,  learner ;  follower. 

Des'  pots,  tyrants.  Corse,  corpse ;  dead  body. 

Pal'  try,  mean  ;  contemptible.  |  Br4WL,  wrangle  ;  contention. 

Rap'  ine,  {rap  in ;)  plunder ;  violence.  \  Dis  tain'  ed,  sullied ;  stained. 

For  sooth',  in  truth  ;  m  fact.  j  Ecu'  o  ed,  resounded. 

^  Ri  en'  zi,  the  last  of  the  Roman  Tribunes,  was  born  in  Rome  about  the 
year  1310.  He  was  assassinated  Oct.  8th,  1354.  He  was  a  person  of  ex- 
traordinary eloquence.  In  his  day,  Rome  was  a  prey  to  a  contending  faction 
of  noDles.  This  kept  the  city  In  constant  turmoil,  and  subjected  the  people 
to  continual  abuse  and  tyranny.  It  was  the  endeavor  of  Riena  to  arouse 
them  to  a  resolution  to  be  free. 


NUMBER    FOUR 


873 


RIENZrs^    ADDRESS    TO    THE    ROMANS. 

Miss  Mixfokd. 

1.  Friends! 

I  come  not  here  to  talk.     You  know  too  well 
The  story  of  our  thralldom.     We  are  slaves  ! 
The  bright  sun  rises  to  his  course,  and  lights 
A  race  of  slaves  !     He  sets,  and  his  last  beam 
Falls  on  a  slave :  not  such  as,  swept  along 
By  the  full  tide  of  power,  the  conqueror  leads 
To  crimson  glory  and  undying  fame  ; 
But  base,  ignoble  slaves  !  slaves  to  a  horde 
Of  petty  tyrants,  feudal  despots,  lords, 
Rich  in  some  dozen  paltry  villages ; 
Strong  in  some  hundred  spearmen;  only  great. 
In  that  strange  spell, — a  name. 

2.  Each  hour,  dark  fraud. 
Or  open  rapine,  or  protected  murder. 

Cry  out  against  them.     But  this  very  day. 
An  honest  man,  my  neighbor, — there  he  stands, 
Was  struck,  .struck  like  a  dog,  by  one  who  wore 
The  badge  of  Ursini ;  because,  forsooth, 
He  tossed  not  high  his  ready  cap  in  air, 
Nor  lifted  up  his  voice  in  servile  shouts, 
At  sight  of  that  great  ruffian  ! 

3.  (/.)  Be  we  men, 

■    And  suffer  such  dishonor'  ?  MEN,  and  wash  not 

The  stain  away  in  blood'  ^  Such  shames  are  common. 

I  have  known  deeper  wrongs.     I,  that  speak  to  ye, 

I  had  a  brother  once,  a  gracious  boy, 

Full  of  gentleness,  of  calmest  hope. 

Of  sweet  and  quiet  joy ;  there  was  the  look 


374  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Of  heaven  upon  his  face,  which  limners  give 
To  the  beloved  disciple ! 

4.  How  I  loved 
That  gracious  boj !     Younger  bj  fifteen  years, 
Brother  at  once,  and  son  !     He  left  my  side, 
A  summer  bloom  on  his  fair  cheek, — a  smile 
Parting  his  innocent  lips.     In  one  short  hour, 
That  pretty,  harmless  boy  was  slain!     (p.)  I  saw 
The  corse,   the  mangled  corse,  and  then  I  cried 

For  vengeance !  {ff.)  Rouse  ye,  Romans! — rouse  ye,  slaves! 
Have  ye  brave  sons  ?     Look  in  the  next  fierce  brawl 
To  see  them  die  !     Have  ye  fair  daughters  ?     Look 
To  see  them  live,  torn  from  your  arms,  distained, 
Dishonored ;   and,  if  ye  dare  call  for  justice, 
Be  answered  by  the  lash  ! 

5.  Yet  this  is  Eome, 
That  sat  on  her  seven  hills,  and,  from  her  throne 
Of  beauty,  ruled  the  world !     Yet  we  are  Romans  ! 
Why,  in  that  elder  day,  to  be  a  Roman, 

Was  greater  than  a  king  !     And  once  again, — 
Hear  me,  ye  walls,  that  echoed  to  the  tread 
Of  either  Brutus  !     Once  again  I  swear, 
The  eternal  city  shall  be  free  ! 

Questions. — 1.  In  what  condition  did  the  writer  say  the  Roman  people 
were  ?  2.  What  wrongs  are  complained  of?  3.  What  special  caaes  are 
mentioned?  4.  What  are  the  people  exhorted  to  do?  5.  What  is  the 
meaning  of  the  sufi&x  dom,  in  the  -R^grd  ihralldom  ?  See  Analysis,  page 
142,  Ex.  189.  6.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  suffix  less,  in  the  word  harm- 
less? See  page  140,  Ex.  18*7.  1.  How,  according  to  the  notation  mark, 
should  the  first  part  of  the  third  verse  be  read?  8.  What  rule  for  the  rising 
inflections,  third  verse  ?     See  page  28,  Rule  I. 


NUMBER    FOUK.  875 

LESSON    OX. 

Mul'  ti  ply,  increase ;  continue.  j  Po'  tent,  powerful. 

Col'  tee,  part  of  the  plow  that  cuts  \  Road'  stead,   place  where  ships 

Ge'  ni  al,  productive.  [the  sod.  '>       may  anchor. 

Be  nig'  nant,  kind ;  bounteous.  <  Re  li'  ant,  trusting ;  depending. 

Saun'  ter  ing,  loitering.  |  Pes  ti  len'  tial,  infectious;  noxious. 

"Wood'  bine,  honeysuckle.  Per  pet'  u  al,  continual. 

Re  splen' DENT,  spleudid;  beautiful,  i  fciEii' ile,  barren. 

1  Le  on'  I  das,  the  celebrated  Spartan  leader  who,  with  three  hundred 
men,  perished  in  the  effort  to  resist  the  Persian  hosts,  at  the  mountain  pass 
of  Thermopylse  (b.  c,  480.) 

'  Mar$'  ton,  that  is,  Marston  Moor,  a  place  in  Yorkshire,  England,  mem- 
orable for  the  defeat  of  Charles  I.,  (in  1644,)  by  the  forces  of  Cromwell  and 
others. 

^  Ban'  nock  burn,  a  village  in  Stirlingshire,  Scotland,  famous  for  the 
battle  between  the  patriots,  under  Robert  Bruce,  and  the  English  invading 
army,  under  Edward  II.,  fought,  June  25,  1314. 

*  Ar  ma'  da,  a  great  naval  armament  sent  by  Philip  II.  of  Spain,  in 
1588,  for  the  conquest  of  England.  It  failed  utterly,  however,  of  its  object, 
having  been  scattered  and  disabled  by  violent  storms. 

SOHG    OF    THE    FORGE. 

1.  CLAN^a  !  clang  !  the  massive  anvils  ring, — 
Clang  !  clang  !  a  hundred  hammers  swing, 
Like  the  thunder-rattle  of  a  tropic  sky, 
The  mighty  blows  still  multiply  : 

Clang !  clang ! 
Say,  brothers  of  the  dusky  brow, 
What  are  your  strong  arms  forging  now  ? 

2.  Clang !  clang  !  — we  forge  the  colter  now — 
The  colter  of  the  kindly  plow ; 
Benignant  Father,  bless  our  toil ; 

May  its  broad  furrow  still  unbind 
To  genial  rains,  to  sun  and  wind, 
The  most  productive  soil ! 


376  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

3.  Clang  !  clang  ! — our  colter's  course  shall  be 
On  many  a  sweet  and  sunny  lea, 

By  many  a  streamlet's  silver  tide, 
Amidst  the  song  of  morning  birds, 
Amidst  the  low  of  sauntering  herds. 
Amidst  soft  breezes  which  do  stray 
Through  woodbine-hedges  and  sweet  May, 

Along  the  green  hill's  side. 

4.  When  regal  Autumn's  bounteous  hand, 
With  wide-spread  glory  clothes  the  land, — 
When,  to  the  valleys,  from  the  brow 

Of  each  resplendent  slope,  is  rolled 
A  ruddy  sea  of  living  gold. 
We  bless, — we  bless  the  plow. 

5.  Clang  !  clang  ! — again,  my  mates,  what  glows 
Beneath  the  hammer's  potent  blows  ? 

Clink  !  clank  ! — we  forge  the  giant  chain, 
Which  bears  the  gallant  vessel's  strain, 
'Midst  stormy  winds  and  adverse  tides ; 
Secured  by  this,  the  good  ship  braves 
The  rocky  roadstead  and  the  waves 
Which  thunder  on  her  sides. 

6.  Anxious  no  more,  the  merchant  sees 
The  mist  drive  dark  before  the  breeze.^ 
The  storm-cloud  on  the  hill ; 

Calmly  he  rests,  though,  far  away 
In  boisterous  climes,  his  vessel  lay 
Reliant  on  our  skill. 

7.  Say,  on  what  sands  these  links  shall  sleep, 
Fathoms  bsneath  the  solemn  deep^  ? 


NUMB  EH    FOUil.  ^^^ 

By  Afric's  pestilential  shore', — 
By  many  an  iceberg,  lone  and  hoar', — 
By  many  a  palmy  western  isle. 
Basking  in  spring's  perpetual  smile', — 
By  stormy  Labrador'  ? 

8.  Say,  shall  they  feel  the  vessel  reel, 
When,  to  the  battery's  deadly  peal. 
The  crashing  broadside  makes  reply'? 

Or  else,  as  at  the  glorious  Nile, 
Hold  grappling  ships,  that  strive  the  while, 
For  death  or  victory'  ? 

9.  Hurrah  ! — cling !  clang  ! — once  more,  what  glows, 

Dark  brothers  of  the  forge,  beneath 
The  iron  tempest  of  your  blows 
The  furnace's  fiery  breath  ? 

10.  Clang!   clang! — a  burning  torrent,  clear 

And  brilliant,  of  bright  sparks  is  poured 
Around  and  up  in  the  dusky  air. 
As  our  hammers  forge  the  sword. 

11.  The  sword  ! — a  name  of  dread  ;  yet  when 
Upon  the  freeman's  thigh  'tis  bound. 

While  for  his  altar  and  his  hearth, — 
While  for  the  land  that  gave  him  birth, 
The  war-drums  roll,  the  trumpets  sound, 
How  sacred  is  it  then  ! 

12.  Whenever  for  the  truth  and  right 
It  flashes  in  the  van  of  fight, 
Whether  in  some  wild  mountain  pass 
As  that  where  fell  Leonidas;' 


378  SANDERS*    UNION    SERIES. 

Or  on  some  sterile  plain  and  stern, 
A  Marston"  or  a  Bannockburn;^ 
Or,  mid  fierce  crags  and  bursting  rills. 
The  Switzer's  Alps,  gray  Tyrol's  hills, — 
Or,  as  when  sunk  the  Armada's*  pride. 
It  gleams  above  the  stormy  tide, — 
Still,  still,  whene'er  the  battle  word 
Is  Liberty,  when  men  do  stand 
For  justice  and  their  native  land, 

Then  Heaven  bless  the  sword  ! . 

> 

Questions. — 1.  What  things  are  mentioned  as  being  forged  ?    2.  "What 
is  said  of  the  colter?    3.  What,  of  the  iron  cable?   4.  What,  of  the  sword? 

LESSON    OXI. 

Ben  e  fac'  tion,  gift ;  favor.  j  Con  so  la'  tion,  comfort. 

E  late',  flushed  with  success.  <  Av'  e  nue,  way ;  entrance. 

In  her'  ent,  natural.  >  A  troC  i  tie$,  enormities. 

Per  fec'  tion,  excellence.  \  Mock'  er  y,  derision ;  ridicule. 

Vig'  il$,  watchfulness.  |  Fac'  ul  tie$,  powers  of  the  mind. 

Un  brib'  ED,  not  influenced  bj  gifts.  !  Ca  pac'  i  tie$,  abilities 

CHOICE    EXTRACTS* 
I. 

SWIFTNESS     OF     TIME. 

Idlkb. 

Let  him  that  desires  to  see  others  happy,  make  haste  to 
give  while  his  gift  can  be  enjoyed,  and  remember  that  every  ■ 
moment  of  delay  takes  away  something  from  the  value  of  his 
benefaction.  And  let  him  who  proposes  his  own  happiness, 
reflect,  that  while  he  forms  his  purpose,  the  day  rolls  on, 
and  "  the  night  cometh  when  no  man  can  work." 


NUMBER    FOUR.  g'jrg 

II. 

THE    SHIP    OF    STATE. 

Longfellow. 

Thou,  too,  sail  on,  0  Ship  of  State ! 
Sail  on,  0  Union,  strong  and  great ! 
Humanity,  with  all  its  fears, 
With  all  the  hopes  of  future  years. 
Is  hanging  breathless  on  thy  fate  ! 
We  know  what  Master  laid  thy  keel, 
What  workmen  wrought  thy  ribs  of  steel, 
Who  made  each  mast,  and  sail,  and  rope, 
What  anvils  rang,  what  hammers  beat, 
In  what  a  forge,  and  what  a  heat. 
Were  shaped  the  anchors  of  thy  hope. 

III. 

THE    TRUE     HEKO. 

Horace  Busiinkll. 

The  true  hero  is  the  great,  wise  man  of  duty, — he  whose 
soul  is  armed  by  truth  and  suppo4-ted  by  the  smile  of  God, — 
he  who  meets  life's  perils  with  a  cautious  but  tranquil 
spirit,  gathers  strength  by  facing  its  storms,  and  dies,  if  he 
is  called  to  die,  as  a  Christian  victor  at  the  post  of  duty. 
And,  if  we  must  have  heroes,  and  wars  wherein  to  make 
them,  there  is  none  so  brilliant  as  a  war  with  wrong, — no 
hero  so  fit  to  to  be  sung  as  he  who  hath  gained  the  bloodless 
victory  of  truth  and  mercy. 

IV. 

HEART    ESSENTIAL    TO    GENIUS. 

W.  Gr.   SIMMS. 

We  are  not  always  equal  to  our  fate. 

Nor  true  to  our  conditions.     Doubt  and  fear 
Beset  the  bravest,  in  their  high  career. 

At  moments  when  the  soul,  no  more  elate 


g30  SA^'DERS'    UKION    SERIES. 

With  expectation,  sinks  beneath  the  time. 

The  masters  have  their  weakness.     "  I  would  climb," 

Said  Raleigh,  gazing  on  the  highest  hill, — 
"But  that  I  tremble  with  the  fear  to  fall.'' 

Apt  was  the  answer  of  the  high-souled  queen : 
"If  thy  heart  fail  thee,  never  climb  at  all !" 
The  heart !  if  that  be  sound,  confirms  the  rest, 

Crowns  genius  with  his  lion  will  and  mien, 
And,  from  the  conscious  virtue  in  the  breast, 
To  trembling  nature  gives  both  strength  and  will. 


EDUCATION. 

Addison. 

I  consider  a  human  soul  without  education,  like  marble  in 
the  quarry,  which  shows  none  of  its  inherent  beauties  until 
the  skill  of  the  polisher  fetches  out  the  colors,  makes  the 
surface  shine,  and  discovers  every  ornamental  cloud,  spot, 
and  vein  that  runs  through  the  body  of  it.  Education,  after 
the  same  manner,  when  it  works  upon  a  noble  mind,  draws 
out  every  latent  virtue  and  perfection,  which,  without  such 
helps,  are  never  able  to  make  their  appearance. 

VI. 

THE    VANITY    OF    WEALTH. 

Db.  JoHirsoK. 

No  more  thus  brooding  o'er  yon  heap. 

With  av'rice  painful  vigils  keep  • 

Still  unenjoyed  the  present  store. 

Still  endless  sighs  are  breathed  for  more. 

Oh  !  quit  the  shadow,  catch  the  prize. 

Which  not  all  India's  treasure  buys ! 

To  purchase  Heaven  has  gold  the  power'  ? 


DUMBER    FOUR.  gg-j^ 

Can  gold  remove  the  mortal  hour'  ? 
In  life,  can  love  be  bought  with  gold'  ? 
Are  friendships  pleasures  to  be  sold'  ? 
No^ ;  all  that's  worth  a  wish — a  thought, 
Fair  Virtue  gives  unbribed,  un  bought. 
Cease  then  on  trash  thy  hopes  to  bind ; 
Let  nobler  views  engage  thy  mind. 

VII. 

CONSOLATION    OF    THE     GOSPEL. 

A.  Alkxandee, 

Oh,  precious  gospel  !  Will  any  merciless  hand  endeavor 
to  tear  away  from  our  hearts,  this  last,  this  sweetest  conso- 
lation' ?  Would  you  darken  the  only  avenue  through  which 
one  ray  of  hope  can  enter'  ?  Would  you  tear  from  the  aged 
and  infirm  poor  the  only  prop  on  which  their  souls  can  repose 
in  peace'  ?  Would  you  deprive  the  dying  of  their  only 
source  of  consolation'  ?  Would  you  rob  the  world  of  its 
richest  treasure'  ?  Would  you  let  loose  the  flood-gates  of 
every  vice,  and  bring  back  upon  the  earth  the  horrors  of 
superstition,  or  the  atrocities  of  atheism'  ?  Then  endeavor 
to  subvert  the  gospeP  ;  throw  around  you  the  firebrands  of 
infidelity^ ;  laugh  at  religion,  and  make  a  mockery  of  futu- 
rity^ ;  but  be  assured  that  for  all  these  things,  God  will  bring 
you  into  judgment \ 

Vlll. 

THE     LIGHT     OF     HOPE. 

O.  W.  B.  Pbabodt. 

1.  Oh,  who  that  has  gazed,  in  the  stillness  of  even, 
On  the  fast-fading  hues  of  the  west. 
Has  seen  not  afar,  in  the  bosom  of  heaven, 
Some  bright  little  mansion  of  rest, 


382  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

And  mourned  that  the  path  to  a  region  so  fair 

Should  be  shrouded  with  sadness  and  fears ; — 
That  the  night  ^vinds  of  sorrow,  misfortune,  and  care, 
Should  sweep  from  the  deep-rolling  waves  of  despair, 
To  darken  this  cold  world  of  tears  ? 

2.  And  who  that  has  gazed,  has  not  longed  for  an  hour, 

When  misfortune  forever  shall  cease ; 
And  Hope,  like  the  rainbow,  unfold,  through  the  shower, 

Her  bright- written  promise  of  peace  ? 
And,  oh  !    if  that  rainbow  of  promise  may  shine 

On  the  last  scene  of  life's  winter j  gloom, 
May  its  light  in  the  moment  of  parting  be  mine ; 
I  ask  but  one  ray  from  a  source  so  divine, 

To  brighten  the  vale  of  the  tomb. 

IX. 

r 
PAMPERING  THE  BODY  AND  STARVINQ  THE  SOUL. 

Edward  Evkrett. 

1.  What'' !  feed  a  child's  body,  and  let  his  soul  hunger'  ? 
pamper  his  limbs,  and  starve  his  faculties'?  Plant  the  earth, 
cover  a  thousand  hills  with  your  droves  of  cattle,  pursue  the 
fish  to  their  hiding-places  in  the  sea,  and  spread  out  your 
wheat-fields  across  the  plain,  in  order  to  supply  the  wants 
of  that  body  which  will  soon  be  as  cold  and  as  senseless  as 
the  poorest  clod,  and  let  the  pure  spiritual  essence  within 
you,  with  all  its  glorious  capacities  for  improvement,  languish 
and  pine'  ? 

2.  What^ !  build  factories,  turn  in  rivers  upon  the  water- 
wheels,  unchain  the  imprisoned  spirits  of  steam,  to  weave  a 
garment  tor  the  body,  and  let  the  soul  remain  unadorned 
and  naked'  ?  What^ !  send  out  your  vessels  to  the  furthest 
ocean,  and  make  battle  with  the  monsters  of  the  deep,  in 


NUMBER    FOUR.  333 

order  to  obtain  the  means  of  ligliting  up  your  dwellings  and 
workshops,  and  prolonging  the  hours  of  labor  for  the  meat 
that  perisheth,  and  permit  that  vital  spark,  which  God  has 
kindled,  which  He  has  intrusted  to  our  care,  to  be  fanned 
into  a  bright  and  heavenly  flame, — permit  it,  I  say,  to  lan- 
guish and  go  out'  ? 

3.  What  considerate  man  can  enter  a  school,  and  not  re- 
flect, with  awe,  that  it  is  a  seminary  where  immortal  minds 
are  training  for  eternity'  ?  What  parent  but  is,  at  times, 
weighed  down  with  the  thought,  that  tliei^e  must  be  laid  the 
foundations  of  a  building  which  Avill  stand,  when  not  merely 
temple  and  palace,  but  the  perpetual  hills  and  adamantine 
rocks  on  w^hich  they  rest,  have  melted  away^ ! — that  a  light 
may  there  be  kindled  which  will  shine,  not  merely  when 
every  artificial  beam  is  extinguished,  but  wlien  the  affrighted 
sun  has  fled  away  from  the  heavens^  ? 

LESSOr  OXII. 

Fruit'  age,  collection  of  fruits.  ^  Ban'  isn  ed,  driven  out ;  expelled. 

"Wax'  e$,  grows ;  increases.  \  Re  new'  ed,  made  new  again. 

Ju'  Bi  LANT,  joyous.  \  Ma  tur'  ing,  ripening. 

Tinge,  imbue.  <  Tint'  age,  produce  of  the  vine. 

Glo'  ri  fi  ed,  exalted  to  glory.  \  Dis  loy'  al  ty,  unfaithfulness. 

Un  wa'  ry,  incautious.  \  Be  queath'  ed,  left  by  mheritance. 

Fam'  ish  ed,  afflicteid  with  hunger.  <  Con  bid'  er  ate,  thoughtful. 

Ee  viv'  I  FY,  (re,  again;  viv,  live;  ify,  to  make;)  to  make  alive  again; 
to  bring  to  life ;  renew. 

WE  ALL   DO   FADE  AS   A   LEAF. 

Gail  IIamiltoit. 

1.  "  We  all  do  fade  as  a  leaf^  Change  is  the  essence  of 
life,  "Passing  away,"  is  written  on  all  things;  and 'passing 
away  is  passing  en  from  strength  to  strength,  from  glory  to 


g34  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES, 

glorj.  Spring  has  its  growth,  summer  its  fruitage,  and 
autumn  its  festive  in-gathering.  The  spring  of  eager  prep- 
aration waxes  into  the  summer  of  noble  work ;  mellowing  in 
its  turn  into  the  serene  autumn,  the  golden-brown  haze  of 
October,  when  the  soul  may  robe  itself  in  jubilant  drapery, 
awaiting  the  welcome  command,  "Come  up  higher,"  where 
mortality  shall  be  swallowed  up  in  life. 

2.  Whyj  then,  should  autumn  tinge  our  thoughts  with 
sadness.  We  fade  as  the  leaf,  and  the  leaf  fades  only  to 
revivify.  Though  it  fall,  it  shall  rise  again.  Does  the  bud 
fear  to  become  a  blossom,  or  the  blossom  shudder  as  it  swells 
into  fruit ;  and  shall  the  redeemed  weep  that  they  must 
become  glorified'  ?  Strange  mconsistency^  !  We  faint  with 
the  burden  and  the  heat  of  the  day.  We  bow  down  under 
the  crosses  that  are  laid  upon  our  shoulders.  We  are 
bruised  and  torn  by  the  snares  and  pitfalls  which  beset  our 
way,  and  into  which  our  unwary  feet  often  fall. 

3.  We  are  famished,  and  foot-sore,  and  travel-stained, 
from  our  long  journey,  and  yet  we  are  saddened  by  tokens 
that  we  shall  pass  away  from  all  these, — away  from  sin  and 
sorrow,  from  temptation  and  fall,  from  disappointment,  and 
weary  waiting,  and  a  fearful  looking-for  of  evil,  to  purity 
and  holiness,  and  the  full  fruition  of  every  hope, — bliss 
which  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  heart  conceived, 
— to  a  world  whence  all  that  made  this  dreary  is  forever 
banished,  and  where  all  that  made  this  delightful  is  forever 
renewed  and  increased, ^ — a  world  where  the  activities  and 
energies  of  the  soul  shall  have  full  scope,  and  love  and 
recognition  wait  upon  its  steps  forever. 

4.  Let  him  alone  fear,  who  does  not  fade  as  the  leaf, — 
him  whose  sources  are  not  in  God,  and  who  does  not  draw 
his  life  thence, — him  whose  spring  is  gathering  no  strength, 
"whose  summer  is  maturinoj  no  frtrit,  and  whose  autumn  shall 


NUMBER    FOUR.  3g5 

have  no  vintage.  Is  not  this  the  real  sorrow  of  us  all  ?  not 
a  dread  of  change,  but  a  secret  consciousness  of  wasted 
power, — of  disloyalty  to  God,  as  the  supreme  object  of  our 
love  and  service. 

5.  Yet  even  here  the  fading  leaf  brings  hope.  Our  future 
is  always  before  us.  The  past  is  fixed.  No  tears  can  wash 
away  its  facts.  Let  us  waste  no  vain  regrets  upon  it ;  but, 
from  the  wisdom  which  its  very  mistakes  and  sins  have 
bequeathed  us,  start  afresh  on  the  race.  Though  yester- 
day we  were  weak,  and  selfish,  and  indolent,  let  us  to-day — 
at  this  moment — begin  to  be  strong,  and  brave,  and  helpful, 
and  just,  and  generous,  and  considerate,  and  tender,  and 
truthful,  and  pure,  and  patient,  and  forgiving.  "Now"  is 
a  glorious  word.  "Henceforth"  is  always  within  our 
grasp. 

Questions. — 1.  To  what  are  we  compared  ?  2.  What  is  said  of  change  ? 
3.  "What  change  takes  place  in  the  leaf?  4.  What,  in  man  ?  5.  Who  have 
reason  to  fear  ?     6.  What  is  said  of  the  past  and  the  future  ? 

LESSON    OXIII. 

Un  heed'  ED,  not  regarded.  C  At  tuk'  ed,  put  in  tunc. 

Ex  P0$'  ED,  unprotected.  j  Es  sen'  tial,  real ;  true. 

Ex  hort'  ED,  urged ;  persuaded.         \  An  noting'  ed,  proclaimed. 

TEACHINGS    OF    MATURE. 

PoLLoa. 

1.  The  seasons  came  and  went,  and  went  and  came, 
To  teach  men  gratitude ;  and,  as  they  passed, 
Gave  warning  of  the  lapse  of  time,  that  else 
Had  stolen  unheeded  by  :  the  gentle  flowers 
Retired,  and,  stooping  o'er  the  wilderness, 
Talked  of  humility,  and  peace,  and  love. 
4U  17 


386  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

The  dews  came  down  unseen  at  evening  tide, 

And  silently  their  bounties  shed,  to  teach  ^ 

Mankind  unostentatious  charitj. 

2.  With  arm  in  arm  the  forest  rose  on  high, 
And  lesson  gave  of  brotherly  regard  ; 
And,  on  the  rugged  mountain  brow  exposed, 
Bearing  the  blast  alone,  the  ancient  oak 
Stood,  lifting  high  his  mighty  arm,  and  still 
To  courage  in  distress  exhorted  loud. 

The  flocks,  the  herds,  the  birds,  the  streams,  the  breeze, 
Attuned  the  heart  to  melody  and  love. 

3.  Mercy  stood  in  the  cloud,  with  eye  that  wept 
Essential  love  ;  and,  from  her  glorious  brow, 
Bending  to  kiss  the  earth  in  token  of  peace, 
With  her  own  lips,  her  gracious  lips,  which  God 
Of  sweetest  accent  made,  she  whispered  still, 
She  whispered  to  Eevenge,  Forgive  !  forgive  ! 

4.  The  Sun,  rejoicing  round  the  earth,  announced 
Daily  the  wisdom,  power,  and  love  of  God. 
The  Moon  awoke,  and,  from  her  maiden  face 
Shedding  her  cloudy  locks,  looked  meekly  forth, 
And,  with  her  virgin  stars,  walked  in  the  heavens,— 
Walked  nightly  there,  conversing  as  she  walked 

Of  purity,  and  holiness,  and  God. 

5.  In  dreams  and  visions,  sleep  instructed  much. 
Day  uttered  speech  to  day,  and  night  to  night 
Taught  knowledge  :  silence  had  a  tongue  :  the  grave, 
The  darkness,  and  the  lonely  waste,  had  each 

A  tongue,  that  ever  said,  Man  !   think  of  God  I 
Think  of  thyself !  think  of  eternity  ! 


NUMBER    FOUR.  337 

6.  Fear  God,  the  thunders  said  ;  Fear  God,  the  waves ; 
Fear  God,  the  lightning  of  the  storm  replied ; 
F^ar  God,  deep  loudly  answered  back  to  deep. 
And,  in  the  temples  of  the  Holy  One, 
Messiah's  messengers,  the  faithful  few, 
Faithful  'mong  many  false,  the  Bible  opened, 
And  cried :  Eepent !  repent,  ye  Sons  of  Men ! 
Believe,  be  saved. 

Questions. — 1.  What  do  the  seasons  teach?  2.  What,  the  trees?  3. 
What,  the  sun  and  moon  ?    4.    What,  Messiah's  messengers? 

LESSON    OXIV. 

Be  deck'  ED,  adorned.  \  Sev'  er  ed,  rent ;  sundered. 

An  ray',  dress ;  attire.  j  En  cir'  cled,  inclosed ;  surrounded. 

Man'  tled,  spread ;  rushed.  <  Sa'  ble$,  mourning  clothes. 
De  vo'  tion,  attachment.  Gift'  ed,  talented. 

Idol'atrous,  excessive.  5  Found' ed,  established. 

Al  lure',  (al,  to ;  lure,  draw ;)  draw  to ;  entice.  ^ 

PASSI]«G    UNDER    THE    ROD.* 

Mary  S.  B.  Dana. 

1.  I  SAW  the  young  bride,  in  her  beauty  and  pride, 
Bedecked  in  her  snowy  array ; 
And  the  bright  flush  of  joy  mantled  high  on  her  cheek, 
And  the  future  looked  blooming  and  gay  : 

*  These  lines  are  founded  on  the  following  passage  of  Jewish  history : — 
"  It  was  the  custom  of  tlie  Jews  to  select  the  tenth  of  their  sheep  after  this 
manner :  The  lambs  were  separated  from  their  dams,  and  inclosed  in  a  sheep- 
cot,  with  only  one  narrow  way  out ;  the  lambs  hastened  to  join  the  dams, 
and  a  man,  placed  at  the  entrance,  with  a  rod  dipped  in  ocher,  touched  every 
tenth  lamb,  and  so  marked  it  with  his  rod,  saying,  '  Let  this  be  holt.' 
Hence,  God  says  by  his  prophet,  ^  I  will  c<Jtuse  you  to  pass  under  ihs  rod.^  '* 


388 


SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 


And  with  a  woman's  devotion  she  laid  her  fond  heart 

At  the  shrine  of  idolatrous  love ; 
And  she  anchored  her  hopes  to  this  perishing  earth, 

By  the  chain  which  her  tenderness  wove. 
But  I  saw,  when  those  heartstrings  were  bleeding  and  torn, 

And  the  chain  had  been  severed  in  two. 
She  had  changed  her  white  robes  for  the  sables  of  grief, 

And  her  bloom  for  the  paleness  of  woe  ! 
But  the  Healer  was  there,  pouring  balm  on  her  heart, 

And  wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes ; 
And  He  strengthened  the  chain  He  had  broken  in  twain. 

And  fastened  it  firm  to  the  skies  ! 
There  had  whispered  a  voice, — 'twas  the  voice  of  her  God : 
"I  love  thee — I  love  thee — pass  under  the  rodP^ 

2. 1  saw  the  young  mother  in  tenderness  bend 

O'er  the  couch  of  her  slumbering  boy ; 
And  she  kissed  the  soft  lips  as  they  murmured  her  name, 

While  the  dreamer  lay  smiling  in  joy. 
.Oh,  sweet  as  the  rose-bud  encircled  with  dew. 

When  its  fragrance  is  flung  on  the  air, 
So  fresh  and  so  bright  to  that  mother  he  seemed, 

As  he  lay  in  his  innocence  there. 
But  I  saw  when  she  gazed  on  the  same  lovely  form, 

Pale  as  marble,  and  silent,  and  cold, 
But  paler  and  colder  her  beautiful  boy, 

And  the  tale  of  her  sorrow  was  told ! 
But  the  Healer  was  there,  who  had  stricken  her  heart, 

And  taken  her  treasure  away ; 
To  allure  her  to  heaven,  He  has  placed  it  on  high, 

And  the  mourner  will  sweetly  obey. 
There  had  whispered  a  voice, — 'twas  the  voice  of  her  God : 
**I  love  thee — I  love  thee — vass  under  the  rodP^ 


NUMBER    FOUR.  3§9 

3. 1  saw,  too,  a  father  and  mother  who  leaned 

On  the  arms  of  a  dear  gifted  son ; 
And  the  star  in  the  future  grew  bright  to  their  gaze, 

As  they  saw  the  proud  place  he  had  won ; 
And  the  fast  coming  evening  of  life  promised  fair, 

And  its  pathway  grew  smooth  to  their  feet, 
And  the  starlight  of  love  glimmered  bright  at  the  2nd, 

And  the  whispers  of  fancy  were  sweet. 
And  I  saw  them  again,  bending  low  o'er  the  grave. 

Where  their  hearts^  dearest  hope  had  been  laid ; 
And  the  star  had  gone  down  in  the  darkness  of  night. 

And  the  joy  from  their  bosoms  had  fled. 
But  the  Healer  was  there,  and  His  arms  were  around, 

And  He  led  them  with  tenderest  care ; 
And  He  showed  them  a  star  in  the  bright  upper  world, 

'Twas  their  star  shining  brilliantly  there ! 
They  had  each  heard  a  voice, — 'twas  the  voice  of  their  God : 
"I  love  thee — I  love  thee — pass  under  the  rodV^ 

Questions. — 1.  "What  custom  is  allude  1  to,  in  the  passage  "-I will  cause 
you  to  pass  under  the  rod  ?"  See  note.  2.  Where  is  that  passage  found  in 
the  Scriptures  ?  Ans.  Ezekiel,  20th  chap.  37th  verse.  3.  What  instances  are 
mentioned  of  individuals  ^^ passing  under  the  rodV 


•  LESSON    OXV. 

Pet'  u  lant,  cross ;  fretful.  (  Ap  pel  la'  tion,  name ;  title. 
Ca  lam'  I  ty,  misfortune.  Ye'  he  ment,  violent ;  furious. 

Sa  tir'  ic  al,  keenly  severe ;  cutting.     Yo  cif  er  a'  tion$,  loud  outcries. 

Nui'  saxce,  annoyance.  i  Men'  a  ce$,  threats. 

Just'  i  fy,  give  a  right  to.  |  Cen'  sur  ed,  blamed. 
Stu  pid'  I  ty,  extreme  dullness.  Yin  di  ca'  tion,  justification. 

Cul'  pa  ble,  blamable ;  censurable,  j  LoN  gev'  i  ty,  length  of  life. 

Ie  EI  TA  bil'  I  TY,  excitableness.  <  Con  tempt'  i  ble,  despicable. 


390  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIJejS. 

THE    PETULAKT    MAN. 

OSBORNB. 

Mr.  Grim — Michael — Cousin  Mary. 

Cousin  Mary  More  breezes  ?  What  terrible  thing  has 
happened  now.  Cousin  Grim  ?     What's  the  matter  ? 

Grim.  Matter  enough,  I  should  think !  I  sent  this  stu- 
pid fellow  to  bring  me  a  pair  of  boots  from  the  closet ;  and 
he  has  wrought  me  two  rights,  instead  of  a  right  and  left. 

Cousin.  What  a  serious  calamity  !  But,  perhaps,  he 
thought  it  was  but  right  to  leave  the  le/L 

G?Hm.  None  of  your  jokes,  if  you  please.  This  is  noth- 
ing to  laugh  at. 

Cousin.  So  it  would  seem,  from  the  expression  on  your 
face, — rather  something  to  storm  at,  roar  at,  and  fall  into  a 
frenzy  about. 

Michael.  That's  right.  Miss;  give  him  a  piece  of  your 
mind !  He's  the  crossest  little  man  I  have  met  with  in  the 
new  country.  You  might  scrape  old  Ireland  with  a  fine- 
tooth  comb,  and  not  find  such  another. 

Grim.  How  dare  you  talk  to  me  in  that  style  ?  I'll  dis- 
charge you  this  very  day  ! 

Michael.  I'm  thinking  of  discharging  you,  if  you  don't 
take  better  care  of  that  sweet  temper  of  yours. 

Grim.  Leave  the  room,  sir ! 

Michael.  That  I  will,  in  search  of  better  company,  saving 
the  lady's  presence.  [Exit. 

Grim.  There,  cousin !  there  is  a  specimen  of  my  provoca- 
tions !     Can  you  wonder  at  my  losing  my  temper  ? 

Cousin.  Cousin  Grim,  that  would  be  the  most  fortunate 
thing  that  could  befall  you. 

Grim.   What  do  you  mean  ? 

Cousin.  I  mean,  if  you  could  only  lose  that  temper  of 
yours,  it  would  be  a  blessed  thing  for  you ;  though  I  should 
pity  the  poor  fellow  who  found  it. 


NUMBER    FOUR. 


391 


Grim.  You  are  growing  satirical  in  your  old  age,  Cousin 
Mary. 

Cousin.  Cousin  Grim,  hear  the  plain  truth  :  your  ill 
temper  makes  you  a  nuisance  to  yourself  and  every  body 
about  you. 

Grim.  Really,  Miss  Mary  Somerville,  you  are  getting  to 
be  complimentary ! 

Cousin.  No  ;  I  am  getting  to  be  candid.  I  have  passed 
a  week  in  your  house,  on  your  invitation.  I  leave  you  this 
afternoon ;  but,  before  I  go,  I  mean  to  speak  my  mind. 

Grim.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  spoken  it  rather 
freely  already. 

Cousin.  What  was  there,  in  the  circumstance  of  poor 
Michael's  bringing  you  the  wrong  boots,  to  justify  your  fly- 
ing into  a  rage,  and  bellowing  as  if  your  life  had  teen 
threatened  ? 

Grim.  That  fellow  is  perpetually  making  just  such  pro- 
voking blunders  ! 

Cousin.  And  do  you  never  make  provoking  blunders'  ? 
Didn't  you  send  me  five  pounds  of  Hyson  tea,  when  I  wrote 
for  Souchong'  ?  Didn't  you  send  a  carriage  for  me  to  the 
cars,  half  an  hour  too  late,  so  that  I  had  to  hire  one  myself, 
after  great  trouble'  ?  And  did  I  roar  at  you,  when  we  met, 
because  you  had  done  these  things'  ? 

Grim.  On  the  contrary,  this  is  the  first  time  you  have 
alluded  to  them.  I  am  sorry  they  should  have  happened. 
But  surely  you  should  make  a  distinction  between  any  such 
little  oversight  of  mine,  and  the  stupidity  of  a  servant,  hired 
to  attend  to  your  orders. 

Cousin.  I  do  not  admit  that  there  should  be  a  distinction. 
You  are  both  human ;  only,  as  you  have  had  the  better  edu- 
cation, and  the  greater  advantages,  stupidity  or  neglect  on 
your  part,  is  much  the  more  culpable. 


592  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Grim.  Thank  you  !     Go  on. 

Cousin.  I  mean  to;  so  don't  be  impatient.  If  an  un- 
cooked potato,  or  a  burnt  mutton-chop,  happens  to  fall  to 
your  lot  at  the  dinner-table,  what  a  tempest  follows  !  One 
would  think  you  had  been  wronged,  insulted,  trampled  on, 
driven  to  despair.  Your  face  is  like  a  thunder-cloud,  all  the 
rest  of  the  meal.  Your  poor  wife  endeavors  to  hide  her 
tea^js.  Your  children  feel  timid  and  miserable.  Your  guest 
feels  as  if  she  would  like  to  see  you  held  under  the  nose  of 
the  pump,  and  thoroughly  ducked. 

Grim.  The  carriage  is  waiting  for  you,  Miss  Somerville, 
and  the  driver  has  put  on  your  baggage. 

Cousin.  I  have  hired  that  carriage  by  the  hour,  and  so  am 
in  no  hurry.  Your  excuse  for  your  irritability  will  be,  I 
suppose,  that  it  is  constitutional^  and  not  to  be  controlled. 
A  selfish,  paltry,  miserable  excuse !  I  have  turned  down  a 
leaf  in  Dr.  Johnson's  works,  and  will  read  what  he  says  in 
regard  to  tempers  like  yours. 

Grim.  You  are  always  quoting  Dr.  Johnson  I  Cousin,  I 
can  not  endure  it !     Dr.  Johnson  is  a  bore ! 

Cousin.  Oh,  yes  !  to  evil-doers^ — but  to  none  else.  Hear 
him :  ''  There  is  in  the  world  a  class  of  mortals  known,  and 
contentedly  known,  by  the  appellation  of  passiotiate  men, 
who  imagine  themselves  entitled,  by  this  distinction,  to  be 
provoked  on  every  slight  occasion,  and  to  vent  their  rage  in 
vehement  and  fierce  vociferations,  in  furious  menaces,  and 
licentious  reproaches." 

Grim.  That  will  do. 

Cousin.  ''Men  of  this  kind,"  he  tells  us,  "are  often 
pitied  rather  than  censured,  and  are  not  treated  with  the 
severity  which  their  neglect  of  the  ease  of  all  about  them, 
might  justly  provoke."  But  he  adds :  ''  It  is  surely  not  to  be 
observed  without  indignation,  that  men  maybe  found  of  minds 


NUMBER    FOUR.  393 

mean  enough  to  be  satisfied  -with  this  treatment ;    wretches 
"who  are  proud  to  obtain  the  privilege  of  madmen,  and " 

Grim.  I  will  hear  no  more  !     Have  done  ! 

Cousin.  So  the  shaft  went  home !     I  am  not  sorry. 

Grim.  No  one  but  a  meddlesome  old  maid  would  thinly 
of  insulting  a  man  in  his  own  house. 

Cousin.  So,  when  at  a  loss  for  a  vindication,  you  reproach 
me  with  being  an  old  maid  !  Cousin,  it  does  not  distress  me, 
either  to  be  an  old  maid,  or  to  be  called  one.  I  must,  how- 
ever, remark,  that  the  manhood  that  can  charge  against  a 
woman  her  single  state,  either  as  a  matter  of  ridicule  or  re- 
proach, is  not  quite  up  to  my  standard. 

Grim.  Cousin  Mary,  I  ask  your  pardon  !  But  am  I,  in- 
deed, the  petulant,  disagreeable  fellow,  you  would  make  me 
out? 

Cousin.  My  dear  Caspar,  you  are  generous  enough  in 
large  things  ;  but,  oh !  consider  that  trifles  make  up  a 
good  portion  of  the  sum  of  life  ;  and  so  "a  small  unkind^ 
ness  is  a  great  offense.^^  "Why  not  be  cheerful,  sunny, 
genial^  in  little  things  ?  Why  not  look  on  the  bright  side  ? 
Why  not  present  an  unruffled  front  to  petty  annoyances  ? 
Why  not  labor, — ay,  labor, — to  have  those  around  you 
happy  and  contented,  by  reflecting  from  yourself  such  a 
frame  of  mind  upon  them  ? 

Life  is  short,  at  the  best ;  why  not  make  it  cheerful  ?  Do 
you  know  that  longevity  is  promoted  by  a  tranquil,  happy 
habit  of  thought  and  temper'  ?  Do  you  know  that  cheerful- 
ness, like  mercy,  is  twice  blessed;  blessing  "him  that  gives, 
and  him  that  takes'  ?"  Do  you  know  that  good  manners,  as 
well  as  good  sense,  demand  that  we  should  look  at  objects 
on  their  bright  side'  ?  Do  you  know  that  it  is  contemptible 
selfishness  in  you  to  shed  gloom  and  sorrow  over  a  whole 
family  by  your  moroseness  and  ill-humor'  ? 
4U  17* 


394  SANDERS'    UI^ION    SERIES. 

Grim.  Cousin  Mary,  the  patience  with  which  I  have  lis- 
tened to  your  cutting  remarks,  will  prove  to  jou,  I  hope,  that, 
notwithstanding  mj  angry  retorts,  I  am  convinced  there  is 
much  truth  in  what  you  have  said  of  me.  I  have  a  favor  to 
ask.  Send  away  your  carriage;  stay  a  week  longer, — a 
month, — a  year,  if  you  will.  Hold  the  lash  over  this  ugly 
temper  of  mine, — and  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  will  set 
about  the  cure  of  it  in  earnest. 

Cousin.  You  should  have  begun  earlier, — in  youth,  when 
the  temper  is  pliable,  and  strong  impressions  can  work  great 
changes.  But  we  will  not  despair.  I  will  tarry  with  you  a 
while,  just  to  see  if  you  are  serious  in  your  wish  for  a  refor- 
mation, and  to  help  you  bring  it  about. 

Grim.  Thank  you.  We  hear  of  reformed  drunkards,  and 
reformed  thieves  ;  and  whtj  may  not  a  petulant  temper  he 
reformed^  by  a  system  of  total  abstinence  from  all  harsh,  un- 
kind moods  and  expressions  ?     Come,  we  will  try. 

Questions.—!.  At  what  was  Mr.  Grim  offended  ?  2.  What  did  Cousin 
Mary  say  would  be  fortunate  for  him  ?  3.  What  blunder  had  Mr.  Grim 
made?  4.  How  did  he  often  behave  at  the  table?  5.  What  does  Dr. 
Johnson  say  of  such  men?  6.  What  did  Cousin  Mary  finally  say  to  him? 
•7.  Of  what  was  he  convinced  ?    8.  What  did  he  resolve  to  do  ? 


LESSON    OXVI. 

Bag'  ri  tice,  religious  offering,  j  Wa'  ver  ed,  hesitated. 
Straight,  Immediately.  Im  par'  tial,  jujt ;  free  from  bias. 

Scur'  vy,  low ;  mean.  Re  fer',  leave  to  another. 

Scru'ple,  hesitate.  Par' don,  forgive. 

Endure',  suffer;  tolerate.  Ghee,  kind  of  butter  used  in  India. 

Im  pure',  filthy ;  unclean.  \  Dis  trust'  ing,  suspecting, 

Ut'terly,  entirely;  completely.  \  Pal'pable,  obvious;  Evident. 

Blbm'ish,  defect;  deformity.  1  L^ud'ing,  praising. 


NUMBER    FOUR.  395 


THE    BRAHMIN    AND    THE    ROGUES.* 

AN  EASTERN   FABLE. 

Versified  by  J.  N.  MoEujaoTT. 

1.  A  Brahmin  went  out,  the  legends  say, 
To  buy  him  a  sheep  a  certain  day ; 
For  he  had  solemnly  vowed  to  slay, 

In  sacrifice,  a  sheep  that  day. 

And  wanted  a  sheep  his  vow  to  pay. 

Three  neighboring  rogues 

(The  cunning  dogs !) 

Finding  this  out,  , 

Went  straight  about 
(Moved,  I  ween,  by  the  very  Old  Nick,) 
To  play  the  Brahmin  a  scurvy  trick. 

2.  So  one  of  them  met  him  with  the  cry  : — 

"  0  Brahmin  !   0  Brahmin  !  won't  you  buy 
A  beautiful  sheep  ?  for  here  have  I 
A  beautiful  sheep  for  sacrifice. 
As  ever  was  seen  by  mortal  eyes." 

8.  ''Where  is  your  sheep?"  replied  the  Brahmin; 
Bring  him  out  here,  and  let  me  examine." 

With  that  the  wag 

Opened  a  bag. 

And  out  he  drew 

To  public  view 
An  ugly,  dirty,  horrible  dog ! 
Blind  as  a  bat,  and  lame  as  a  frog 

*  The  fable,  here  thrown  into  verse,  is  related  in  English  prose  by  Macau- 
lay,  who  tiays : — "  Thus,  or  yearly  thus,  if  we  remember  rightly,  runs  tl^Q 
Btory  of  the  Sanscrit  ^sop." 


g96  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

With  a  broken  leg,  climbing  a  log, 
Or  limping  slowly  over  a  bog. 

4.  "Wretch  I"  said  the  Bralftnin  indignant,  "who 
Shamelessly  utterest  things  untrue. 

And  dost  without  a  scruple  endure 
To  handle  creatures  the  most  impure. 
How  darest  thou  call  that  cur  a  sheep^  ? 
Do  you  think,  foul  knave,  that  I'm  asleep'?" 

5.  "  Cur' P''  said  the  fellow  with  steady  tone; 
A  sheep  it  is,  and  a  sheep  alone ; 

A  sheep  (see  here,  what  a  splendid  fleece !) 
With  flesh  the  sweetest,  and  fat  as  grease ; 

And  such  a  prize 

For  sacrifice. 
As  neither  gods  nor  men  can  despise, 
Unless  they  both  have  dust  in  their  eyes  I" 
"  Sir,"  said  the  Brahmin,  surprised  to  find 
A  person  so  utterly  out  of  his  mind, 
'Tis  certain  that  you  or  /  am  blind. 

6.  Then  stepping  up. 
Patting  the  pup, 

Rogue  the  second,  as  if  amazed. 
While  on  the  dog  he  steadily  gazed. 
Exclaims  aloud  : — "  The  gods  be  praised ! 
Since  I've  no  need  to  market  to  go 
To  buy  me  a  sheep  ;  for  here's  one  so 
From  spot  and  blemish  perfectly  free, 
That  better  could  not  possibly  be. 

IsrCt  it  nice^  ? 

What's  your  price'  ?" 


DUMBER    FOUR. 

7.  The  Brahmin,  seeing  this  singular  thing, 
Wavered  in  mind,  like  one  in  a  swing  ; 
Yet  answered  the  stranger,  firmly, — "  Sir, 
This  isn't  a  sheep,  but  only  a  cur." 
^^CurT^  with  disdain,  the  new-comer  said; 
"Why,  man,  you're  surely  out  of  your  head  !" 

8.  As  this  occurred, 
Came  rogue  the  third, 

To  whom,  as  being  a  witness  new, 

And  likely  to  take  impartial  view, 

Brahmin  proposed  at  once  to  refer, 

Whether  the  creature  was  sheep  or  cur. 

All  being  agreed,  the  eager  priest 

Said : — "  Stranger,  what  do  you  call  this  beast  ? 

*'A  sheep ^  to  be  sure  !"  the  knave  replied; 

"  As  fine  a  sheep  as  ever  you  spied." 

9.  "Well,"  said  the  Brahmin,  "  the  gods  this  day 
Have  surely  taken  my  senses  away  !" 

Then  begging  the  rogue 

That  carried  the  dog. 
To  pardon  him  for  doubting  his  word, 
■  He,  with  a  readiness  most  absurd. 
Purchased  the  creature  with  rice  and  ghee. 
Which  went,  of  course,  to  the  worthless  three. 
And  which  they  shared  with  wonderful  glee. 

10.  Thus  taken  in, 

The  poor  Brahmin 
Offered  it  up. 
The  filthy  pup. 


897 


398  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

Which  so  offended  the  gods,  that  they 
Sent  sore  disease  his  folly  to  pay : 
Thinking  it  right  the  man  to  chastise 
For  so  distrusting  his  natural  eyes, 
And  being  led  by  palpable  liea 
To  offer  a  dog  as  a  sacrifice.        • 

*  MORAL. 

Look  out  for  the  arts  of  the  puffing  tribe, — 

People  that  praise  for  the  sake  of  a  bribe; 

Lavishly  lauding  a  book  or  a  pill, 

Or  any  thing  else  the  pocket  to  fill ; 

Singing  Simplicity  fast  asleep, 

And  making  her  dream  a  dog's  a  sheep. 

Questions. — 1.  "What  trick  did  the  three  rogues  play  off  on  the  Brahmin  ? 
2.  In  what  way  did  they  do  this  ?     3.  What  moral  is  taught  in  this  fable  ? 

LESSON    OXVII. 

E  LAS  tic'  I  TY,  returning  vigor.  j  Im  per'  ti  iraiNCE,  that  which  is  not 

Mm'  I  PiE$,  lessens ;  makes  small  \      pertinent. 

Deg  ra  da'  tion,  abasement.  j  Sus  pi"  cious,  distrustful 

Es  TRANa'  E$,  alienates.  [alms.  |  E  con'  0  my,  frugality.  .  , 

Un  4LM$'  ED,    not  having  received  \  Tran'  quil,  calm ;  undisturbed. 

Ha  bit'  u  al,  accustomed,      [pense.  \  Be  numb'  ing,  dull ;  stunefying. 

Ex  trav'  a  gance,   superfluous  ex-  \  Im  prov'  i  dence,  wastefulness. 

LIVING    WITHIN    OUR    MEANS. 

S.  W.  Paetbidok. 

1.  Oh,  beware  of  debt  ! 

It  crushes  out  the  manhood  of  a  man, 
Robs  his  bright  eje  of  boldness,  cheats  his  limbs 
Of  elasticity,  unnerves  his  hand, 


NUMBER    FOUR.  399 

Beclouds  his  judgment,  dulls  his  intellect, 
Perils  his  uprightness,  and  stains  his  name, 
And  minifies  him  to  his  fellow-men  ; 
Yea,  far  worse  degradation,  to  himself. 

2.  Who  hath  the  hurried  step,  the  anxious  eye. 
Avoids  the  public  haunt  and  open  street. 
And  anxious  waits  for  evening?     Restlessly 
Tosses  upon  his  bed,  and  dreads  the  approach 

Of  the  tell-tale  morning  sunlight?     Who,  unmanned, 
Starts  at  the  sudden  knock,  and  shrinks  with  dread 
E'en  at  his  own  shadow  ;  shuns  with  care 
The  stranger's  look,  skulks  from  his  fellow's  glance, 
And  sees  in  every  man  a  creditor  ? 

3.  The  debtor  ; — he  is  only  half  a  man  ; 

He  saddens  and  estranges  his  chief  friends. 
Burdens  his  dearest  relatives  ;  he  hears 
In  vain  the  stranger^  tale,  the  widow's  prayer, 
And  sends  away  the  orphan  all  unalmsed. 
None  dare  to  place  him  in  a  post  of  trust, 
And  business  men  regard  him  with  a  shrug. 

4.  "Owe  no  man  aught."     Stand  in  the  world  erect, 
And  lean  alone  upon  thyself  and  God. 

The  habitual  borrower  will  be  ever  found 
Wicked,  or  weak,  or  both.     Sweat,  study,  stint, 
Yea,  rather  any  thing  than  meanly  owe. 
Let  thine  own  honest  hands  feed  thee  and  thine, 
And,  if  not  thy  friend's  purse,  at  least,  respect 
Thine  own  sweet  independence. 

5.  Have  fewest  wants  :  the  book,  however  good, 

*    Thou  shouldst  not  purchase,  let  it  go  unbought ; 


400  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

And  fashion's  vests  by  thee  be  all  unworn. 

Soon  luxuries  become  necessities, 

But  self-denying  thrift  more  joy  affords 

Than  all  the  pleasures  of  extravagance. 

A  cottage,  free  from  clamorous  creditors, 

Is  better  than  a  mansion  dunned  ;  a  coat, 

However  darned,  if  paid  for,  hath  an  ease, 

And  a  respectability  beside  : 

Gay,  ill-afforded  vests  can  never  boast. 

6.  However  cheap, 

Whate'er  thou  want'st  not,  buy  not.     That  is  dear, 

A  mere  extravagant  impertinence, 

For  "which  thou  hast  no  need.     Feel  first  the  want 

Ere  it  be  satisfied :  bargains  full  oft 

Are  money- wasting  things,  that  prudent  men 

Will  keep  afar  from  with  suspicious  eye ; 

Perchance  to  any  but  of  little  use. 

And  to  themselves,  most  likely,  none  at  all. 

7.  The  habit  of  economy  once  formed, 
'Tis  easy  to  attain  to  prosperous  things. 

Thou  then  shalt  lend,  not  borrow  :  shalt  not  want 
A  helping  trifle  when  thy  friend  hath  need. 
Or  means  to  seize  an  opportunity, — 
Seed-coin,  to  ensure  a  harvest.     Thou  shalt  then 
Want  not  an  alms  for  pinching  poverty ; 
And,  though  a  sudden  sickness  dam  the  stream, 
And  cut  off  thy  supplies,  thou  shalt  lie  down 
And  view  thy  morrows  with  a  tranquil  eye; 
Even  benumbing  age  shall  scare  thee  not, 
But  find  thee  unindebted,  and  secure 
From  all  the  penury  and  wretchedness 
That  dog  the  footsteps  of  improvidencQ. 


SiuMber  four.  4Q2 

LESSON     OXVIII. 

Oil  nip' 0  TENT,  all-powerful,               j  Om  nis'  cience,   knowledge  of  all 

In  ter'mi  na  ble,  endless.  things. 

Milk'  y-Wat,  galaxy ;  luminous  cir- 1  Per  tub  ba''  tion$,  irregularities  of 

As'  tbal,  starry,  [cle  in  the  heavens.  Ab'  SO  lute,  entire.              [motion^ 

In  fin' I  tube,  unlimited  extent.  Pre  cis' ion,  exactness. 

Im  pet'  u  ous,  rushing.                        \  Ad  just'  ments,  arrangements. 

Astron'omer,  one  skilled  in  the  |  Ret'inue,  company. 

science  of  the  stars.                         |  Sat'  el  lites,  small  planets  revolv 

Ap  prox'  I  mate  LY,  nearly.               ^  ing  round  others. 

GRAMDEUR    OF    THE    UNIVERSE* 

O.   M.   MlTCHEL. 

1.  If  jou  would  know  the  glo)y  of  the  Omnipotent  Ruler 
of  the  universe,  examine  the  interminable  range  of  suns  and 
systems  which  crowd  the  Milky-Way.  Multiply  the  hun- 
dred millions  of  stars  which  belong  to  our  own  "island 
universe"  by  the  thousands  of  these  astral  systems  that  exist 
in  space,  within  the  range  of  human  vision,  and  then  you 
may  form  some  idea  of  the  hifinitiide  of  His  kingdom ;  for 
lo !  these  are  but  a  part  of  His  ways. 

2.  Examine  the  scale  on  which  the  .universe  is  built. 
Comprehend,  if  you  can,  the  vast  dimensions  of  our  sun. 
Stretch  outward  through  his  system,  from  planet  to  planet, 
and  circumscribe  the  whole  within  the  immense  circumfer- 
ence of  Neptune's  orbit.  This  is  but  a  single  unit  out  of 
the  myriads  of  similar  systems. 

3.  Take  the  wings  of  light,  and  flash  with  impetuous 
speed,  day  and  night,  and  month,  and  year,  till  youth  shall 
wear  away,  and  middle  age  is  gone,  and  the  extremest  limit 
of  human  life  has  been  attained ; — count  every  pulse,  and, 
at  each,  speed  on  your  way  a  hundred  thousand  miles;  and 
when  a  hundred  years  have  rolled  by,  look  out,  and  behold ! 
the  thronging  millions  of  blazing  suns  are  still  around  you. 


402  SANDifiliS'    Ui\10i\[    SERIES. 

each  separated  from  the  other  by  such  a  distance,  that,  in 
this  journey  of  a  century,  you  have  only  left  half  a  score 
behind  you. 

4.  Would  you  gather  some  idea  of  the  eternity  past  of 
God's  existence, — go  to  the  astronomer,  and  bid  him  lead  you 
in  one  of  his  walks  through  space ;  and,  as  he  sweeps  out- 
ward from  object  to  object,  from  universe  to  universe, 
remember  that  the  light  from  those  filmy  stains  on  the  deep 
pure  blue  of  heaven,  now  falling  on  your  eye,  has  been 
traversing  space  for  a  million  of  years. 

5.  Would  you  gather  some  knowledge  of  the  omnipotence 
of  God, — weigh  the  earth  on  which  we  dwell,  then  count 
the  millions  of  its  inhabitants  that  have  come  and  gone  for 
the  last  six  thousand  years.  Unite  their  strength  into  one 
arm,  and  test  its  power  in  an  effort  to  move  this  earth.  It 
could  not  stir  it  a  single  foot  in  a  thousand  years ;  and  yet 
under  the  omnipotent  hand  of  God,  not  a  minute  passes  that 
it  does  not  fly  more  than  a  thousand  miles. 

6.  But  this  is  a  mere  atom, — the  most  insignificant  point 
among  his  innumerable  worlds.  At  his  bidding,  every  planet, 
and  satellite,  and  comet,  and  the  sun  himself,  fly  onward  in 
their  appointed  courses.  His  single  arm  guides  the  millions 
of  sweeping  suns,  and  around  His  throne  circles  the  great 
.constellation  of  unnumbered  universes. 

7.  Would  you  comprehend  the  idea  of  the  omniscience 
of  God, — remember  that  the  highest  pinnacle  of  knowledge 
reached  by  the  whole  human  race,  by  the  combined  efforts 
of  its  brightest  intellects,  has  enabled  the  astronomer  to 
compute  approximately  the  perturbations  of  the  planetary 
worlds.  He  has  predicted  roughly  the  return  of  half  a 
score  of  comets.  But  God  has  computed  the  mutual  per- 
turbations of  millions  of  suns,  and  planets,  and  comets,  and 
worlds,  without  number,  through  the  ages  that  are  passed, 


NUMBJEXi    Jb'UUAU  4Q3 

and  throughout  the  ages  which  are  yet  to  come,  not  approxi- 
mately, but  with  perfect  and  absolute  precision. 

8.  The  universe  is  in  motion, — system  rising  above  sys- 
tem, cluster  above  cluster,  nebula  above  nebula, — all  majes- 
tically sweeping  around  under  the  providence  of  God,  who 
alone  knows  the  end  from  the  beginning,  and  before  whose 
glory  and  power  all  intelligent  beings,  whether  in  heaven  or 
on  earth,  should  bow  with  humility  and  awe. 

9.  Would  you  gain  some  idea  of  the  luisdom  of  God, — 
look  to  the  admirable  adjustments  of  the  magnificent  reti- 
nue of  planets  and  satellites  which  sweep  around  the  sun. 
Every  globe  has  been  weighed  and  poised,  every  orbit  has 
been  measured  and  bent  to  its  beautiful  form. 

10.  All  is  changing,  but  the  laws  fixed  by  the  wisdom  of 
God,  though  they  permit  the  rocking  to  and  fro  of  the  sys- 
tem, never  introduce  disorder,  or  lead  to  destruction.  All 
is  perfect  and  harmonious,  and  the  music  of  the  spheres  that 
burn  and  roll  around  our  sun,  is  echoed  by  that  of  ten  mil- 
lions of  moving  worlds,  that  sing  and  shine  around  the  bright 
suns  that  reign  above. 

11.  If,  overwhelmed  with  the  grandeur  and  majesty  of 
the  universe  of  God,  we  are  led  to  exclaim  with  the  Hebrew 
poet-king, — "  When  I  consider  Thy  heavens,  the  work  of  Thy 
fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars,  which  Thou  hast  ordained, 
what  is  man,  that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him  ?  and  the  son  of 
man,  that  Thou  visitest  him  ?" — If,  fearful  that  the  eye  of 
God  may  overlook  us  in  the  immensity  of  His  kingdom,  we 
have  only  to  call  to  mind  that  other  passage,  "  Yet  Thou  hast 
made  him  but  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  and  hast 
crowned  him  with  glory  and  honor.  Thou  madest  him  to 
have  dominion  over  all  the  works  of  Thy  hand ;  Thou  hast 
put  all  things  under  his  fpet."  Such  are  the  teachings  of 
the  word,  and  such  are  the  lessons  of  the  works  of  God. 


404  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

LESSON    OXIX. 

^^WHOM  HAVE  I  IN  HEAVEN  BUT  THEE?" 

Miss  Pamelia  S.  Yining. 

1.  'TwERE  naught  to  me,  yon  glorious  arch  of  night, 

Decked  with  the  gorgeous  blazonry  of  heaven, 
If,  to  my  faith,  amid  its  splendors  bright, 

No  vision  of  the  Eternal  One  were  given ; 
I  could  but  view  a  dreary,  soulless  waste, — 

A  vast  expanse  of  solitude  unknown. 
More  cheerless  for  the  splendors  o'er  it  cast, — 

For  all  its  grandeur  more  intensely  lone. 

2.  'Twere  naught  to  me,  this  ever-changeful  scene 

Of  earthly  beauty,  sunshine,  and  delight, — 
The  wood's  deep  shadows  and  the  valley's  green, — 

Morn's  tender  glow,  and  sunset's  splendors  bright ; 
Naught,  if  my  Father  spoke  not  from  the  sky. 

The  cloud,  the  flower,  the  landscape,  and  the  leaf; 
My  soul  would  pine  'mid  earth's  vain  pageantry. 

And  droop  in  Jiopeless  orphanage  and  grief 

8.  'Twere  naught  to  me,  the  ocean's  vast  expanse, 

If  His  perfections  were  not  mirrored  there ; 
Hopeless  across  the  unmeasured  waste  I'd  glance. 

And  clasp  my  hands  in  anguish,  not  in  prayer. 
Naught  Nature's -^.nthem,  ever  swelling  up 

From  Nature's  myriad  voices ;  for  the  hymn 
Breathes  not  of  love,  or  gratitude,  or  hope. 

Robbed  of  the  tones  that  tell  my  soul  of  Him. 

4.  This  wondrotis  universe  how  less  than  naught 
Without  my  God  !  how  desolate  and  drear  ! 
A  mock'ry,  earth  with  her  vain  splendors  fraught  I 
A  gilded  pageant,  every  rolling  sphere  I 


NUMBER    FOUR.  405 

The  noonday  sun  with  all  his  glories  crowned, 
A  sickly  meteor  glimmers  faint  and  pale  ! 

And  all  earth's  melodies,  their  sweetness  drowned, 
Are  but  the  utterance  of  a  funeral  wail. 


LESSON    OXX. 

THE    MEMORY    OF    WASHINGTON* 

Kossuth. 

Mr.  President  :  I  consider  it  a  particular  favor  of  Provi- 
dence that  I  am  permitted  to  partake,  on  the  present  solemn 
occasion,  in  paying  the  tribute  of  honor  and  gratitude  to  the 
memory  of  your  immortal  Washington. 

2.  An  architect  having  raised  a  proud  and  noble  building 
to  the  service  of  the  Almighty,  his  admirers  desired  to  erect 
a  monument  to  his  memory.  How  was  it  done  ?  His  name 
was  inscribed  upon  the  wall,  with  these  additional  words  : 
"You  seek  his  monument — look  around," 

3.  Let  him  who  looks  for  a  monument  of  Washington  look 
around  the  United  States.  The  whole  country  is  a  monu- 
ment to  him.  Your  freedom,  your  independence,  your  national 
power,  your  prosperity,  and  your  prodigious  growth,  is  a 
monument  to  Washington. 

4.  There  is  no  room  left  for  panegyric,  none  especially  to  a 
stranger  whom  you  had  full  reason  to  charge  with  arrogance, 
were  he  able  to  believe  that  his  feeble  voice  could  claim  to  be 
noticed  in  the  mighty  harmony  of  a  nation's  praise.  Let  me, 
therefore,  instead  of  such  an  arrogant  attempt,  pray  that 
that  God,  to  whose  providential  intentions  Washington  was  a 
glorious  instrument,  may  impart  to  the  people  of  the  United 
States  the  same  wisdom  for  the  conservation  of  the  present 
prosperity  of  the  land  and  for  its  future  security,  which  he 
gave  to  Washington  for  the  foundation  of  it. 


N 

406  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIES. 

5.  I  yield  to  nobody  in  the  world  in  reverence  and  respect 
to  the  immortal  memory  of  Washington.  His  life  and  his 
principles  were  the  guiding  star  of  my  life ;  to  that  star  I 
looked  up  for  inspiration  and  advice,  during  the  vicissitudes 
of  my  stormy  life.  Hence  I  drew  that  devotion  to  my  coun- 
try and  to  the  cause  of  national  freedom,  which  you,  gentle- 
men, and  millions  of  your  fellow-citizens,  and  your  national 
government,  are  so  kind  as  to  honor  by  unexampled  distinction. 

6.  Sir,  I  have  studied  the  history  of  your  immortal  Wash- 
ington, and  have,  from  my  early  youth,  considered  his  prin- 
ciples as  a  living  source  of  instruction  to  statesmen  and  to 
patriots. 

When,  in  that  very  year  in  which  Washington  issued  his 
Farewell  Address,  M.  Adet,  the  French  Minister,  presented 
to  him  the  flag  of  the  French  Republic,  Washington,  as  Pres- 
ident of  the  United  States,  answered  officially,  with  these 
memorable  words  : 

''  Born  in  a  land  of  liberty,  having  early  learned  its  value, 
having  engaged  in  a  perilous  conflict  to  defend  it,  having 
devoted  the  best  years  of  my  life  to  secure  its  permanent 
establishment  in  my  country,  my  anxious  recollections,  my 
sympathetic  feelings,  and  my  best  wishes,  are  irresistibly 
attracted,  whensoever  in  any  country  I  see  an  oppressed 
nation  unfurl  the  banner  of  freedom." 

7.  Thus  spoke  Washington.  Have  I  not  then  full  reason 
to  say,  that  if  he  were  alive  his  generous  sympathy  would  be 

.  with  me,  and  the  sympathy  of  a  Washington  never  was,  and 
never  would  be,  a  barren  word.  Washington,  who  raised 
the  word  ''  honesty  "  as  a  rule  of  policy,  never  %vould  have 
professed  a  sentiment  which  his  wisdom  as  a  statesman  would 
not  have  approved. 

8.  Sir !  here  let  me  end.  I  consider  it  already  as  an  im- 
mense benefit  that  your  generous  attention   connected  the 


NUMBER    FOUR.  40*^- 

cause  of  Hungary  with  the  celebration  of  the  memory  of 
Washington. 

9.  Spirit  of  the  departed !  smile  down  from  heaven  upon 
this  appreciation  of  m j  country's  cause;  watch  over  those 
principles  which  thou  hast  taken  for  the  guiding  star  of  thy 
noble  life,  and  the  time  will  yet  come  when  not  only  thine 
own  country,  but  liberated  Europe,  also,  will  be  a  living 
monument  to  thy  immortal  name. 

LESSON    OXXI. 

THE    LOST    ONE'S    LAMENT* 

1.  Oh  !  the  snow,  the  beautiful  snow, 
Filling  the  sky  and  earth  below ; 
Over  the  housetops,  over  the  street, 
Over  the  heads  of  the  people  you  meet, 

Dancing, 

Flirting, 

Skimming  along  ! 
Beautiful  snow  !  it  can  do  no  wrong. 
Flying  to  kiss  a  fair  lady's  cheek, 
Clinging  to  lips  in  a  frolicsome  freak. 
Beautiful  snow  from  the  Heaven  above. 
Pure  as  an  angel,  gentle  as  love  ! 

2.  Oh !  the  snow,  the  beautiful  snow, 

How  the  flakes  gather  and  laugh  as  they  go  ! 
Whirling  about  in  its  maddening  fun, 
It  plays  in  its  glee  with  every  one  ; 
Chasing, 

Laughing, 

Hurrying  by, 


408  SANDERS'    UNION    SERIJa^^. 

It  lights  on  the  face  and  it  sparkles  the  eye ! 
And  even  the  dogs,  with  a  bark  and  a  bound, 
Snap  at  the  crystals  that  eddy  around. 
The  town  is  alive,  and  its  heart  in  a  glow 
To  welcome  the  coming  of  beautiful  snow. 

3.  How  wild  the  crowd  goes  swaying  along, 
Hailing  each  otlier  with  humor  and  song  1 
How  the  gay  sledges,  like  meteors,  flash  by, 
Bright  for  the  moment,  then  lost  to  the  eye  ! 

Ringing, 

Swinging, 

Dashing  they  go 
Over  the  crust  of  the  beautiful  snow  ; 
Snow  so  pure  when  it  falls  from  the  sky, 
To  be  trampled  in  mud  by  the  crowd  rushing  by. 
To  be  trampled  and  tracked  by  thousands  of  feet. 
Till  it  blends  with  the  filth  in  the  horrible  street. 

4.  How  strange  it  should  be  that  this  beautiful  snow. 
Should  fall  on  a  sinner  with  nowhere  to  go ! 

How  strange  it  should  be,  when  the  night  comes  again, 
If  the  snow  and  the  ice  struck  my  desperate  brain ! 
Fainting, 

Freezing, 

Dying  alone, 
Too  wicked  for  prayer,  too  weak  for  a  moan 
To  be  heard  in  the  crazy  town, 
Gone  mad  i\\  the  joy  of  the  snow  coming  down  ; 
To  lie  and  so  die,  in  my  terrible  woe, 
With  a  bed  and  a  shroud  of  the  beautiful  snow  I 


^  ^^  y/s  ^a^"] 


CQ7S70Tlt.l 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

EDUCATION-PSYCHOLOGY 
LIBRARY 

TEl.  NO.  642-4209 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


NOV  2  0  1973 


Nov??HMnv-^pfr/i 


LD  21A-15m-ll,'72 
(Q5761S10)476 — A-32 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


